What's My Name Again, Sam?
by DeansBabyBird
Summary: After a bit of a bop on the head Dean's not quite himself and reliant on Sam for his memories and sense of self. I hope this reflects the sweet soft side of Dean that he never gets to show and that it will make you smile!
1. Chapter 1

**What's My Name Again, Sam? by DeansBabyBird**

Sam nodded as Dr Anderson spoke, overwhelmed with relief at his words.

"So the CT scan's all clear and you're saying he'll be fine?"

"Yes that's about the measure of it, Sam. It seems highly unlikely that your brother will suffer any long term damage at all."

The doctor smiled at the obvious delight on the face of the young man before him. They were an unusual pair these two and he had come to appreciate the intensity of feeling they had for each other over the three days that they had been in the hospital.

"Your brother has a hard head!"

Sam laughed; the first time he had laughed in the last three days and it felt good.

"You can say that again! And you say he's awake now?"

"Yes, we gradually reduced his sedation to zero throughout the night. He's still a bit groggy but that's to be expected and he's likely to get tired quickly over the next few weeks but he'll do fine."

Sam rose from his chair; the tension that had been ever present in his broad shoulders suddenly gone. They made their way to the door and Sam grasped the doctor's hand, shaking it gratefully.

"You may have to make a few allowances for Dean over the next few days Sam. Sometimes head injuries such as your brother received may sometimes make the memory a little sluggish, but it restores itself given time."

"Kinda re-boots?"

Dr Anderson laughed.

"Yes a good analogy, Sam! It may take a few days to re-boot all of Dean."

"Can I see him now?"

"Sure, you know where he is. In fact he can leave now, there's nothing else really for us to do here and he can come back to have his stitches out."

Sam pumped the doctor's hand, clapping him enthusiastically on the shoulder.

"Great doc! I'll get him home, he hates hospitals."

Sam turned and jogged off down the corridor his step light as a feather.

SNSNSN

Dean's head hurt and he was not the least bit surprised as he studied his huge but neatly sutured head wound in the bathroom mirror. It ran from within his spiked sandy hair, right across his forehead and terminated just over his left eye.

It was held together by what seemed to be dozens of little blue stitches all of which looked like they would be painful to remove! He decided not to think about that just now and, turning off the light, walked slightly unsteadily back into the room, and sat on the edge of the bed.

It was there that Sam found him seconds later as he burst into the room, an enormous smile plastered across his face.

Dean took in the impossibly tall man who slid to a halt before him and felt relief flood through his whole body, his thoughts suddenly dominated by one word.

"Sam!"

The name was a bark of pleasure; his sleepy green eyes widening, lighting up his handsome face and he stood shakily, throwing his arms around the startled younger man.

Sam was knocked for a loop as Dean hugged him close, holding the embrace for precious seconds before standing back, swaying slightly.

"Doc says I can go home!"

His words were a little bit slurred but Sam could hear his brother's unguarded delight.

"Yup! Just gotta get your meds and then we can go. How do ya feel? You OK?"

As they spoke Sam gently eased Dean backwards, sitting him down on the bed.

"M'fine, Sam"

The familiar reply hiked Sam's smile up another notch as he rummaged in the bag he tossed from his shoulder onto the bed looking for the clothes he had brought for his brother.

"I brought you some better clothes 'cause the ones you were wearing were pretty much ruined in the hunt."

Sam pulled tattered but clean jeans and Dean's favourite near-worn-out Metalica T-shirt from the bag, and placed them into Dean's outstretched but slightly shaky hands.

Dean looked at the holes and stains in the cheap jeans and shook out the T-shirt, grinning at the faded logo. He seemed lost in thought and Sam watched with bemused amusement as he poked his fingers through the various rips and tears like it was the first time he had ever seen the well-worn clothes.

"OK, Dean?"

At the question, the older man looked up and Sam was disarmed by the sappy smile that warmly crinkled the heavily lashed pale jade eyes.

"These are my better clothes? Gee we sure do lead a rough life huh Sam?"

Sam laughed at the joke; and tossing a pair of boxers onto the pile in Dean's hands, steered him gently to the bathroom.

"Can ya manage?"

Dean giggled as he pushed Sam away, modestly closing the bathroom door, and the spontaneous and youthful sound had Sam shaking his head in disbelief.

Sam busied himself gathering the rest of Dean's few scant positions together and shoving them into the duffle bag. He retrieved boots and jacket from the closet and signed for the large bag of pain meds brought by the nurse before sitting on the bed waiting for Dean to emerge.

"How ya doing, Dean?"

Sam called, glancing at his watch thinking it was taking his brother a long time to shrug the hospital PJ's in favour of his jeans. He stood and went and cocked his head at the door, listening. There was no noise at all from the bathroom and Sam felt a slight twitch of anxiety. He knocked quietly, opening the door.

"You OK in there, Dean?"

Dean was dressed and the hospital PJ's were carefully folded on the chair by the sink. He was standing before the mirror staring at his reflection in the glass, one hand raised to the huge scar on his forehead and a faraway look in his green eyes.

"Dean?"

Sam watched as his brother started slightly and then, with a seconds delay, swivelled his gaze to meet Sam's, as he lowered his hand.

"Is your head hurting?"

Dean shrugged, his head shaking and his full lips pouting in denial.

"No, I'm good, Sam."

"You good to go then?"

Sam looked quizzically from under chocolate brown bangs, and Dean smiled and nodded picking up the Pj's, and followed him from the bathroom.

SNSNSN

Dean set the hospital pyjamas on the bed next to his leather jacket, his hand trailing softly over the shabby coat. Dean smiled at the feel of the leather in his fingers and it seemed that he struggled to seek a distant memory. The older hunter picked up the jacket and put it on, his cheek unconsciously nuzzling the collar of the old coat as it settled around his shoulders. It smelled somehow familiar and he was comforted by its return to him.

"Ready?"

Sam had picked up their gear and was standing at the door looking back, slight puzzlement on his face. Dean nodded and crossed the room to stand at Sam's side, smiling up at his brother as Sam frowned.

"Dean?"

The older man looked seriously into his brother's eyes, his brows raised in question.

"Boots Man! It's snowing outside!"

Dean looked down at his bare feet wriggling his toes against the cold floor and then looked back at Sam, following his finger to the old boots sitting on the floor by the bed. He laughed.

"Good thinking, Sam! Go Stanford!"

And Sam grabbed his shoulders, tutting disbelievingly as he propelled his giggling brother towards the prematurely discarded footwear.

SNSNSN

The boots proved more of a challenge than Sam had anticipated, with Dean spending 20 seconds with the laces held in his hands and a look of baffled consternation on his face before he finally admitted defeat and looked up at Sam. Sam hunkered down before him and tied them up for him.

"Sorry Sam"

Dean's voice was slightly troubled sounding and Sam felt his brother's hand ruffle though hair as he knelt on the floor before him. He looked up and saw confusion on Dean's pale face.

"It's OK Dean, you're tired. Let's get you out of here huh? You're never at your best in hospitals!"

Dean nodded but the confusion remained in his eyes.

"Sam, would ya say we spend a lot of time in hospitals?"

Dean watched Sam frown, and he felt anxiety churn his stomach.

"Well, kinda, Dean. Our lifestyle sorta makes us more frequent visitors than we'd choose, doesn't it?"

Sam rose to his feet, his gaze still on Dean as he moved.

"umm...Yeah..."

Sam could hear the hesitation and lack of certainty in his brother's voice. Nervousness gripped at Sam and he sat back down on the bed next to Dean watching as his big brother looked away from him. He looked a little lost and suddenly very young.

"Dean, do you remember how you got hurt?"

Dean twisted his hands together. He was upsetting Sam and he knew that was a bad thing and that he wanted to avoid it at all costs, but for the life of him he could not really remember how he'd got the dent in his head.

He had loads of other scars too; he'd seen them as he got dressed. Most of them looked old but there sure were a lot and how he'd got them was a mystery to him as well.

"So, do ya remember how you got hurt?"

Sam's worried tone drew Dean's eyes back to his face and he smiled apologetically.

"I'm really accident prone?"

The disbelieving huff was out of Sam's mouth before he could stop it and he watched his brother wince slightly in response. He sucked in a breath, Dr Anderson's words ringing in his head. Memory possibly a little sluggish, may need a few days to re-boot the whole of Dean!

"Dean, do you know what we do for a living?"

"Umm..."

Dean wracked his brain, his face frowning in concentration until the frown pulled on his scar so he stopped.

"Well Sam, I can't entirely remember, but it's something that has a casual dress code!"

Dean poked his finger through the hole in his faded T-shirt as he spoke and Sam laughed despite his growing concerns.

"And we are either really bad at it 'cause we seem to seem to get knocked about a fair bit, or we are really good at it because we don't get dead! I'm kinda hoping for the latter!"

Sam laughed out loud, his big hands rubbing his face as he processed the fact that Dean couldn't remember at all that they were hunters. Dean laughed too, the humour masking his disorientation.

"But ...you know who I am don't ya?"

Dean nodded emphatically, his face earnest and serious.

"You're Sam!"

Relief flooded through Sam; the other stuff didn't matter it was just a re-boot; he could cope so long as Dean remembered him.

"That's right, I'm Sam!"

Dean grinned and slapped Sam's knee triumphantly.

"And I'm ...? In relation to you, Dean? I'm your...?"

The look of triumph disappeared to be replaced by a look that was a mixture of apology and evasion. Sam's stomach flip-flopped as he repeated the question, slight hysteria catching his voice.

"And I'm ...?"

Dean chewed his thumb nail as he looked into the increasingly desperate hazel eyes.

"Umm...You're...really tall?"

Sam groaned and pushed his long bangs back from his eyes as Dean shrugged apologetically

"I'm your brother!"

Dean's face broke into a huge grin.

"Really? Cool, Sam!"

Dean laughed and Sam couldn't help but smile at the genuine pleasure on his brother's face.

"Sorry Sam, but look at it this way. I did at least remember your name. In fact it's about the only thing I do remember! And I knew you were important, I'm just not entirely sure of exactly how!"

Sam assessed Dean's theory and in light of anything more comforting, nodded in agreement. He rose and turned to look at Dean.

"OK Bro! Shall we blow this joint and see if we can find you some more memories?"

Dean smiled, his big eyes blinking sleepily as he stood on wobbly legs and they made for the door.

As they reached the door Sam suddenly pulled up. He put his hand on Dean's shoulder and looked into his eyes.

"Bro, did you just say just about the only thing you remember is my name?"

Dean nodded, relatively unconcerned by the fact.

"So do you know who you are?"

Dean's face scrunched up in concentration. He knew Sam had called him by name on a number of occasions over the last half hour, but the actual name eluded him. Wait! It began with D.

"Dan!"

"_DEAN!"_

Sam's voice was louder than he intended and he raised his hands in apology as he repeated more quietly.

"Dean...your name's Dean"

Dean's mouth quirked into a smile as he said it again.

"Dean. Hum, yeah I like it!"

Sam shook his head and threw his arm around his brother's shoulder, steering him towards the exit.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"What's our second name?"

"Winchester"

Dean turned in Sam's embrace; his eyes alight with childlike pleasure.

"Yeah? Like the rifle?"

Sam laughed thinking how Dean's eyes were gonna pop when he saw the boot of the Impala.

Yeah, Dean, like the rifle!"

Chapter ends


	2. Chapter 2

"**What's My Name Again, Sam?"**

Chapter Two The World is Full of Wonders!

The trip to the parking garage was uneventful; well uneventful if Sam didn't count the fact that Dean seemed currently to find wonder in the slightest thing, and stopped frequently to marvel at something inconsequential, or wandered off entirely at every possible opportunity.

Thus the 5 minute walk to the garage became a 30 minutes saunter; and by the time they got to their destination Sam was holding Dean's wrist tightly in his firm 'parental' hand, as a now tired Dean trailed along in a slight sulk behind his 'baby' brother.

The short journey was salutary for Sam and gave him a much more acute understanding of what Dean's frustrations must have felt like, as he'd babysat him on all those occasions in the past.

The role reversal was strange; and yet Sam found himself grudgingly admitting that rather than being disconcerted by it, he found the situation perversely satisfying. Well, almost!

Dean was normally so 'in control' of every occasion; and even when he was desperately hurt or sick he could not let go enough to easily allow Sam to help him. Thus this childlike trust that Dean suddenly had for him was somehow humbling.

All the same, Sam was still very pleased to reach the Impala and he stopped gratefully in front of the big black car; only to immediately let out a big huff of air as Dean failed to stop as urgently and ploughed into the back of him, banging him painfully into the solid wing of the Chevy.

"Sorry, Sam!"

Dean's expression was contrite; and Sam nodded that he was ok as he rubbed at his bruised hip, which generated a beaming smile on his brother's face as he pointed eagerly back the way they had come. Dean spoke animatedly; with a breathy mixture of encroaching tiredness and excitement.

"Sorry... wasn't looking where I was going, Sam! Did ya see that Harley? Heritage soft tail ...I think! Cool bike, huh? Did ya see the chrome sissy bars and the heel to toe foot brakes? They're not standard you know? Hey, Sam, I'd like me one of those! Wouldn't you like one of those?"

Sam smiled. It was difficult to get his head around Dean's amazing lack of his usual 'cool'; but at the same time his enthusiasm was very endearing. It was hard not to be charmed by Dean's sudden pleasure in the smallest of things.

"Yeah, Dean, it was a good looking bike."

Sam said; as he turned back to the Impala and bent to retrieve the duffle bag that Dean had knocked to the floor in their collision. As he straightened; Dean walked past him, a look of pure joy on his transfixed face.

"Oh wow, Sam!"

Dean ran his hand reverently down the stylish bodywork of the classic car; his pale green eyes reflecting in the glossy black paintjob, as Sam grinned at his excitement.

"Isn't she beautiful?"

Sam nodded; letting out a sigh of relief for Dean's recognition of his 'baby' as he watched the mesmerised hunter stalk slowly around the car; his hands caressing the warm metal with an unconscious familiarity.

"Yeah, Dean, she is and I knew you'd recognise her!"

Dean raised his eyes to meet Sam's.

"Of course I do! She's a Chevy Impala...1967, isn't she?"

Sam sighed with relief; a spontaneous laugh escaping his lips, delighted that Dean's memories were returning.

"Well, I knew however bad your amnesia was you wouldn't forget..."

Sam looked back at Dean; and stopped abruptly as he saw dismayed confusion in Dean's face, realising that all was not as he had assumed.

"You don't really 'recognise' _her_ do ya?"

Sam felt his chest tighten a little as he realised that the Impala, Dean's beloved baby, was a veritable stranger to him. Dean's eyes cast down to the floor; his discomfort at his lack of recognition palpable in his demoralised stance, and Sam immediately felt guilty that he had spoken hastily.

"It's OK, Dean, don't worry"

Sam put his large hand on his brother's shoulder and was rewarded by a hesitant smile.

"I'm trying real hard, Sam, but it's like I can't quite make things out in the fog that's inside my head! I can see bits of memories but they're all fuzzy!"

The older hunter raised his hand to his forehead as he spoke, unconsciously touching the long line of still inflamed sutures that closed his head wound.

"I know you are, Dean, and it's OK really. The Doc said it'd take a while for everything to come back, we just gotta be patient"

Dean nodded; his sleepy green eyes intent on Sam's, his long lashes drooping and Sam noticed that his slight swaying had increased a little again.

"You tired?"

Dean shook his head; but his poorly stifled yawn belied the gesture, and Sam gently firmed up the steadying grip on Dean's shoulder as he opened the trunk to stow the duffle bag.

"Let's go back to the motel, and you can get some sleep..."

Dean watched as Sam hoisted the bag; the gesture suddenly so known to him that the fierce familiarity of Sam's movement stung his slightly bloodshot eyes. He stepped up to the trunk of the car and without really being aware of what he was doing or how he knew to do it, he triggered the catch that popped the hidden panel, exposing the vast array of Winchester ordinance hidden within.

Sam watched as Dean's hands drifted confidently over the paraphernalia of subjugation and death; his practised eyes expertly inventorying their cache of weapons, seeing the ruthless hunter that was Dean Winchester surface for a moment as Dean turned to him, and grinning said.

"Holy Shit Sam, what the hell do we do with all these? It's like we're the freaking FBI or something!"

SNSNSN

The look of excited intrigue on Dean's face was amusing to Sam; his brother appearing totally unsurprised that the weapons were in their possession, yet remaining stoically uninformed as to their purpose. It was like 'proper' Dean was in there, but hidden just behind the sweet sappy Dean that was currently smiling up at him.

"Is that a Remingtonsawn-off?"

Dean had his upper body bent into the trunk of the classic car; reaching into the back of the hidden compartment, his voice somewhat muffled.

As he straightened he hefted the shotgun with graceful ease; and Sam felt that pleasant flood of confidence that he always had when he watched his brother interact so effortlessly with their arsenal of weapons.

Their guns and knives were necessary tools to Sam and he was deadly with them; but for Dean they were seamless extensions of his disciplined body.

When Sam raised a shotgun to shoot he exhibited skill; but when Dean held his Glock 17 or threw one of his Condor Wing knives, it was a sensual lesson in ruthlessness and deadly accuracy that had been honed to perfection over years of hunting.

Sam heard the gasp behind him in the same moment that Dean did; and he watched with horror as his brother cocked the shotgun, and instinctively spun to face the face down their possible attacker.

SNSNSN

Dr Anderson kept his hands nervously in plain view; as he stood pressed up against the side of his Prius Hybrid, trembling slightly as he stared along the length of the Wing-Master's deadly barrel. The business end of the intimidating weapon rested disconcertingly tightly against his ribs; held in place by impressively muscled arms that connected to a face that showed nothing but contained danger and restrained menace.

"Dean?"

Sam kept his voice deliberately soft; aiming for calmness and reason, as his heart pounded and sweat gathered on his forehead. He cautiously raised his hand to the stock of the shotgun; and gently pushed the blued metal trying to dislodge the weapon from the doctor's chest, his distressed hazel eyes all the time on his brother's piercing green.

Dean could distantly hear someone softly calling his name. The voice was utterly familiar to him and he trusted it implicitly, but he couldn't quite understand what it wanted of him. After all, this guy had appeared out of nowhere and it was his job to protect Sam and that's what he was gonna do!

So even though he wasn't sure what Sam was trying to tell him and that was a bit of a worry, he wasn't overly concerned because he was in control of the situation. He had the creature, whatever it was, covered with his beloved pump action; and could feel Sam off to his left, well away from the noisy end of the big gun. So everything was good!

Except that he was however beginning to feel just ever so slightly nauseous; and his head ached steadily and he had to admit that the 'creature' looked fairly harmless, in fact it was confusingly familiar somehow. And he still couldn't tell what Sam was saying for the roaring in his ears.

"Dean? I need you to look at me Bro!"

Sam's hand drifted gently to rest casually on his brother's forearm; feeling lean muscle contract beneath his loose grip, as he patiently repeated Dean's name.

Dean growled in quiet annoyance in the back of his throat; as he felt the insistent pressure of a hand on his arm, irritated that the interruption to his balance might affect his aim.

He swayed back very slightly distancing himself from his captive; allowing that extra bit of reach that would help facilitate his shot if needed, before shifting his gaze reluctantly towards Sam.

Sam looked into the deadly pale jade gaze that he had seen so many times before as they had hunted; and understood the terror he saw on the doctors face, as he witnessed the incipient chill of danger within his brother's eyes.

"S'OK, Dean! It's just the doc! Look, you remember him don't ya?"

Sam raised his chin; throwing a short glance at the sweating man pinned against the car.

Dean swivelled his head back to the man before him; and the sudden movement made the world swirl before his eyes, and he staggered a little feeling his clarity of purpose waver as the younger man pulled the shotgun from his shaking hands.

The doctor watched with detached clinical interest as the deadly hunter before him morphed into the barely recovered head injury patient he had discharged no more than an hour earlier; and he breathed a huge sigh of relief as the large and threatening shotgun disappeared into the muscle car's trunk.

"Sorry Doc!"

Sam flicked a gaze his way; but his eyes quickly found their way back to the suddenly forlorn figure of his brother.

"Dean's still a bit confused, and you kinda snuck up on us there!"

The doctor stepped forward; righting himself from his enforced lean, and cleared his remarkably dry throat.

"Well you said you were hunters, Sam; I guess I just didn't expect you to hunt me!"

The man's casual tone lightened the difficult situation and Sam was grateful yet again for the compassion of this medic. The Winchesters had an often brittle relationship with hospitals and healthcare and Sam was relieved that this traumatic encounter had been made easier by this doctor.

"Yeah, I'm..."

Sam's sentence was interrupted by a small noise from Dean; a mixture of sigh and slight groan, and both men turned to look at the older hunter.

Dean had his left arm wrapped around his body; his right elbow braced so he could rest his head on his hand, and was clearly fighting a losing battle with sudden total fatigue.

"You Ok, Dean?"

Sam put his hands on his brother's shoulders; and gently reigned in his dizzying sway, as the doctor stepped forward and peered carefully into unfocussed emerald eyes.

"Tired, Sam"

Dean's eyes were fluttering shut as he spoke; and Sam looked with concern to Dr Anderson, who smiled reassuringly.

"I think he's just worn out, Sam. It's been a long day for you both. Let's get him into the car and sat down before he falls down!"

Sam nodded his head as he carefully turned his wobbly brother around; heading him back towards the Impala, one arm tightly around his shoulders. Anderson following them, checking the slightly ataxic hunter as they moved.

"Let him sleep, he needs to rest and he'll be fine in a few days."

The doctor watched as the younger hunter eased his weary sibling into the worn leather of the obviously well loved car; leaning him up against the partially open window, as he jumped into the driver's seat.

"Ready for bed, Dean?"

Dean smiled drunkenly up at the medic; his head lolling against the big black seatback, as he struggled to focus on his well intentioned inquisitor.

"Well doc, I don't usually put out this early on in a relationship, but hell you're a damn fine looking man..."

Sam laughed; relieved to hear the familiar cocky, wise-ass response that was so 'Dean', as he floored the gas and watched the soothing growl of the engine carry his brother to the land of Nod!

Chapter ends.

Reviews are real nice to get so if you have time...


	3. Chapter 3

**What's My Name Again, Sam?**

Thanks Kripke for letting me play with your wonderful boys and thanks as always to my fabulous betas Kirsty and Lou xxx

Chapter Three Paris Hilton and a Motel Pool!

Dean slept all the way back to the motel, murmuring peacefully as his head nodded against the window of the Impala, only opening his sleepy eyes as the reassuring growl of the engine died away. He looked at Sam, blinking slowly in the soft light of the motels parking lot and rubbing at his sutured forehead.

"We home, Sam?"

Sam laughed, glancing quickly at the shabby motel frontage, before returning his gaze to his brother's face, his answer catching a little in his throat. It was a sorry state of affairs but the crappy 'Bate's Motel' look-a-like was just about as near to home that the Winchesters ever really got.

"Yeah, Dean, we're home!"

Sam cracked the car door open as he spoke, his long stride eating up the turf to the passenger side as Dean emerged on somewhat wobbly legs.

"You doing Ok there, Dean?"

Sam reached out a stabilising hand to his unsteady brother, leaning him carefully back against the Impala, as he looked into increasingly unfocussed eyes.

"M'fine, Sam! But have we been drinking? Because I think you might have had one too many Bro, your ass is swaying about all over the place!"

Dean raised a hand and swung his pointing finger back and forth in Sam's general direction, laughing as he spoke.

Sam smiled in response, but remembering their Father's programming about head injuries, ran a quick diagnostic.

"How many of me can ya see, Dean?"

The serious tone of his brother's voice halted Dean's laughter as he concentrated, moving his raised hand with studied hesitancy to the middle of Sam's chest.

"Just one, Sam. But that's OK. So long as there's one of ya I'm OK"

The lump returned to Sam's throat as he savoured his shaky brother's trust in him, all the time knowing that 'proper' Dean was squirming inside at the girly-ness of his statement.

Reassured that Dean's jiggly stance was tiredness only and not the onset of some delayed response to his injury, Sam nodded and stepped towards the trunk of the car intent on retrieving their gear.

"Stay right there, Dean, I'm just getting our stuff OK?"

Dean nodded cooperatively his eyes falling shut, as Sam popped the trunk and rummaged for their bags.

SNSNSN

Sam closed the lid of the trunk, and looked in horror at the empty place where 30 seconds earlier Dean had been standing.

"Oh Crap!"

He dropped the bags and urgently scanned around the deserted parking lot. Nothing, not a sign of Dean! He couldn't have gone far; Sam had turned his back for less than a minute.

The young hunter felt the rising panic that he realised Dean must have felt every time he'd been left with the responsibility for his baby brother, only for Sam to wander off without telling him where he was going.

He said a silent apology to Dean for the frequent grief he must have caused him, as he ran towards the highway at the front of the motel, praying Dean had not ventured that far, calling his brother's name frantically as he moved.

Sam had loped past the dingy reception before he registered that Dean was standing leaning on the check in desk, in what appeared to be a deep and meaningful conversation with the less than salubrious owner, Earl.

Sam backed up quickly and wrenched the door half off its hinges in relief as he stepped to Dean's side, nodding a 'Good Evening' in response to the suspicious glower on Earl's unshaven face.

"You with Einstein here?"

Earl snarked, tipping his head aggressively at Dean, simultaneously spitting the juice from his chewing baccy into the filthy brass bowl on the counter to his right. He was a practised shot and the thick brown gloop ker-chinged noisily, as both Sam and Dean did a surprisingly similar but subtle nose wrinkle.

Sam nodded to the odious man, stepping protectively close to his brother, as Dean smiled in relief.

"Great, see told ya not to worry, Earl. I knew my brother'd be along. We can clear this up now"

Earl spat another nugget of nicotine flavoured phlegm into the bowl, tutting in disgust, his rheumy eyes boring into Sam.

"Look, Son. I don't know what institute your boy here's gotten himself busted outta, but I'm ready to tell ya that he ain't all there! Ya know what I'm saying here?"

Earl tapped at his temple and rolled his eyes confirming for Sam that though he was not wholly suited to his current job in hospitality services, he most certainly did not have a future with the diplomatic corps.

"Dammit, he don't even know his own name when I asked him! What sorta person don't even know their own name? Then he starts asking me where the pool is! I told him, Boy, I rent mostly by the hour! But no, Paris Hilton here wants to know where the freaking pool is! Why does the devil send me all the crazies...?"

As Earl was working himself into a frenzy of outrage, Sam placed his arm around Dean's shoulder gently steering him for the door, scowling at the spluttering motel owner as Dean innocently queried.

"Well, maybe he's got a point? What _is_ my name again, Sam?"

SNSNSN

Sam's arm never left his brother's shoulders as they walked the short distance to their motel room, pausing only to retrieve the bags Sam had dropped in his panic. His heart rate was slowly returning to normal and he worked hard to keep from sounding like a clucking mother hen as he reminded Dean of his name again.

"Dean...it's Dean Winchester and I'm..."

"I know who you are, Sam!"

Dean snorted giving Sam a look that was pure "Dean", and said "you're a shithead!", without actually saying the words.

"You're Samuel Winchester, my freaking ginormous baby brother!"

Sam smiled in spite of the implied insult, the situation feeling way too surreal to really hold his anger, but curiosity still prickled Sam.

"Why did you wander off when I told ya to stay put?"

Dean continued with the "shithead" expression as he answered.

"Well I went to look for the pool of course!"

Dean's face held such conviction that seeking out an Olympic sized pool at the crappiest motel in 'Hicksville' Alabama, in the middle of the night and in the dead of winter, was so obviously a sensible thing to do that Sam found himself nodding in vague but puzzled agreement. Sam's curiosity was still unsatisfied though and despite the ire he risked from his big brother he had to finish the line of enquiry.

"Why?"

Dean watched Sam's face as he totally failed to understand the logic of Dean's clearly totally crucial actions, and he shook his head. Boy, for a college educated dude Sam could be so dumb sometimes!

"Why what?"

"Why were you looking for a pool?"

Sam's voice raised an octave as the surreal conversation clogged up his logic gland making it itch.

"Well so we could go for a swim of course!"

Dean had stopped and was looking intently at Sam, annoyance at Sam's lack of understanding beginning to sparkle in his emerald eyes, and Sam ricocheted between just writing off Dean's weird thoughts as residual head-injury stuff and challenging it to keep him grounded in reality.

"Dean, there's a foot of snow, it's the middle of the night and it's 10 below freezing out here. Swimming, dude?"

Dean looked at his brother, a feeling of vague concern competing with the overwhelming tiredness that suddenly predominated. He must have drifted for a minute there because for some reason Sam was going on about swimming of all things. Seemed like a crazy idea, as Dean was freezing his ass off and they were in a parking lot as far as Dean could tell, but Sam seemed to be in charge just at the moment so there must be a reason to it that he just couldn't figure.

"Sam, Sure I'll go swimming if ya want to, but how about we do it tomorrow 'cause it's really cold out here and I'm kinda tired?"

"I don't wanna go swimming at all Dean!"

Another octave and Sam's itchy logic thing was gonna need hydrocortisone at this rate!

"Great then, 'cause you booked us into a motel without a pool anyway, ya big Idjit! Can we go home now I'm freezing!"

Dean's face cracked into a smile, as Sam rubbed at his aching head, as they continued to their room

SNSNSN

Sam unlocked the door and gently propelled Dean into the cheap and tasteless room, locking and shoving the key into the pocket of his jeans just to be safe. He dropped the bags by the small table, watching Dean as he enthusiastically took in the tatty furniture and psychedelic, acid-trip swirls of the dubious decor, before turning back to Sam in all seriousness and saying.

"I like it, Sam, the patterns are sort of... soothing!"

Sam stared in disbelief, running his big hand across his disbelieving face before responding.

"Yeah, Dean, picked it right outta 'Better Homes and Gardens' recommended section!"

Dean bobbed his head in feigned understanding, Sam's irony lost to his temporarily spongy IQ, his next question said in all innocence.

"You'd think it would have a pool then, wouldn't ya?"

Sam changed the subject quickly, his voice verging on constrained hysteria.

"So, Dean, you hungry?"

Sam was doing a mental inventory as he spoke, realising that it was three, no four! days since Dean had really eaten anything, and he must be starving. His constantly ravenous brother normally managed a few hours between meals at best, and that was with his ever present stash of Peanut M&Ms to sustain him.

Dean thought briefly, using the few seconds run-time delay required to process Sam's question to admire again the crazy purple swirls on the once lime green curtains. He checked out the suddenly apparent growling in his belly and the omnipresent feeling of light-headedness, and the cogs churned out an affirmative answer.

"Yeah, Sam, I could eat"

Sam stared, suddenly nostalgic for his usual amusingly gluttonous sibling.

"OK. We'll go down the road. There's a diner that looks OK. That suit ya, Dean?"

"Fine, Sam."

"OK, that's the plan then! Let me hit the john and then we'll make tracks. OK?"

Dean nodded quietly content with the proposal, and Sam switched on the bathroom light and hit the head.

SNSNSN

Sam stepped back into the motel room; his eyes cast back seeking the switch to shut off the light, speaking to Dean as he closed the door.

"Ready?"

Dean was lying on his side on the bed, his legs drawn up to his chest and his head resting on his forearm, fast asleep. He hadn't even taken his jacket or boots off, and Sam was taken aback how incredibly young he looked.

He seemed smaller somehow as he lay there, his lithe strong body utterly relaxed, and Sam was shocked to suddenly realise that normally even in sleep, Dean did not really relax. There was always a tension about him, an alertness or wariness as if he were waiting for some danger to manifest, some horror to strike.

Sam studied his face, taking in the spiky honey blond hair, his incredibly long lashes and the smattering of freckles that highlighted the tawny glow of his skin. And for a moment could see the frightened 4 year old child who had carried him from the fire, rather than the strong and capable adult that Dean had become.

Sam's thoughts turned to the hundreds of times that Dean had put his own needs and wants aside to make sure Sam got his. He looked at the pale scar on his forehead, and knew that Dean had been hurt, tortured and damaged endlessly, perhaps irreparably, just so that he would be safe.

It was then that Sam realised what had bothered him about the picture before him. Dean lay sleeping on the bed furthest from the door, not his bed at all but Sam's. Dean's bed was always the one between the potential danger that might come through the door and his brother, so that it would have to go through him to get to Sam.

Sam's throat tightened and he blinked at the tears that spilled from his burning hazel eyes, as his heart burst with pride for the selfless man his brother was. He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the other bed, and gently unfastened Dean's boots, thinking how many times Dean had been there to put him to bed. He spoke as he worked, not really aware that he was speaking aloud, the need coming from deep inside him to connect to Dean

"Come on, Bro, we don't put our dirty boots on the linen! You taught me that, Dean! You said Dad would be mad if we ruined the sheets because then we'd have to pay more for the room."

Dean grumbled in his sleep, pulling his feet out of his brother's cold hands, as Sam began to wrestle him out of his old leather jacket. Sam looked at the battered old coat, it was shabby and stained, and Sam knew that though his brother would deny it vehemently, citing comfort and durability as reasons for hanging onto it, the real reason was that it had belonged to their father and represented all that was strong and protective and loving about that desperately flawed man. Dean clung to it like a touchstone, using it to hold John close to him, his desperate need suppressed but never hidden from Sam's intuitive eyes.

Sam held the coat in his hands as he sat on the bed next to his brother and he found his mind transported back to a dark night, years ago, in their shared past. They had been hunting and John and Bobby had gone on after the Were-creature, leaving a 15 year old Dean to look after 11 year old Sam and the sprained ankle that prevented Sam from keeping pace.

It was a freezing cold night and Sam had been feeling miserable and tired, and sorry for himself! He had whined and moaned and called Dad every name under the sun, and Dean had listened and joked with him till he forgot his anger, and when Sam had started to shiver he had stripped off the leather coat that Dad sometimes let him wear, and wrapped Sam in it, to keep him warm as he fell asleep.

The first thing Sam knew about the Werewolf having found them was when Dean shook him awake, his hand pressed over Sam's mouth, as he thrust the silver round filled rifle into his trembling hands.

"Sam. I can't get a clear shot at it; it's using the trees for cover."

Sam had nodded his eyes wide with terror.

"I'm gonna draw it into that clearing."

Dean had gestured to the patch of clear ground beyond the stand of trees, as the howling of the creature struck terror into Sam's heart.

"Look right here, Sam!"

Dean had turned Sam's face to his own, his pale green eyes had stood out clearly in the darkness, and Sam had pulled courage from that steady gaze.

"I won't let it get ya, Sam. Do you trust me?"

Sam had not needed to think he had just nodded; knowing that for anything to get to him it would have to have gone through Dean first.

"OK, Sammy so I want you to stay back here, and when I draw it into the clearing shoot the bastard OK?"

Sam had looked at Dean, with tears rolling down his face.

"What if I can't make the shot, Dean, or what if it gets you?"

Dean had glanced at Sam's roughly strapped ankle, knowing that he couldn't tell Sam to run for it, so that if he failed to draw the beast away or if Sam failed to make the shot they were dead meat, before looking straight into his terrified hazel eyes.

"I will not let anything happen to ya, Sam. It's my job to look after you. You are my brother and it's my job. The Were wolf is going down it's that simple. OK?"

Sam had fed on Dean's calm surety then, raising his head and grasping the rifle confidently, watching as his brother rose and blended effortlessly into the darkness, running silently towards the snarling of the were beast.

The creature had jumped Dean just as he made it to the clearing, and for the longest 60 seconds Sam had to watch it tear and slash at Dean as he fought desperately to get it into a position where Sam could make the shot. Finally Sam had seen his opening, and had remembered everything he had ever been taught, and the kill shot had reverberated in Sam's ears as he raced, sprained ankle forgotten, to Dean's side.

The werewolf had torn Dean up good, and Sam had found him kneeling on the forest floor, covered in a colourful blend of animal and human blood. Sam had sunk to his knees before his brother, the rifle dropping from nerveless fingers, and Dean had wrapped the one arm he could move around him as he had cried.

Sam couldn't remember the exact worlds Dean had crooned at him, as he had clung to his bloody torso fighting to control his frightened sobs, but he could remember words like brave, proud, and good job. They were followed by crap and fuck as Sam had manoeuvred his injured brother away from the stinking Were's corpse, back to the perceived safety of the trees.

There they had sat side by side, their father's ratty old jacket huddled around them, as the night passed, in a blur of fear and pain. Dean had bled all over his torn T-shirt, Sam and the jacket, bled so much that his pallor had shamed the pale white winter sun as dawn had risen, but even so he had never once complained and had fought to remain awake until Sam's fear had lessened enough for him to sleep. The last thing Sam could remember hearing before he finally closed his eyes was,

"M'fine, Sammy. Sleep, Kiddo. Love ya!"

Their father and Bobby had had found them in the morning, huddled together, Sam asleep leaned against his brother's chest, Dean's good arm wrapped protectively around him.

The jacket had been cleaned of course, but as Sam looked at it now he saw his brother's indomitable spirit, bravery and sacrifice in the bruised and scuffed leather. He reached out and pulled the covers over Dean's sleeping form, trailing his hand lightly through the spiky dirty blond hair, and whispering as the older hunter nestled into the covers.

"Love ya Dean. I'm proud that you are my brother!"

SNSNSN

Sam woke with a start sitting bolt upright, the shock of Dean's hand on his shoulder as he stood at the side of Sam's bed, shaking him to instant wakefulness. He quickly switched the bedside light on and reached out to Dean to steady him with a hand against his chest, as he swayed softly on his feet. Dean's eyes were fluttering shut as Sam watched him, but there was a stubborn determination in his stance.

"What's the matter, Dean? Are you Ok?"

Dean nodded.

"Sorry, Sam. Gotta swap! It's just not right."

"Swap what? What do you mean? What's not right, Dean?"

Sam swung his legs outta bed and got to his feet to stand between the two beds, beside his clearly exhausted brother.

"This!"

Dean waved his hand vaguely at the beds, his agitation apparent, as Sam looked on perplexed.

"I don't understand, Dean?"

Dean clicked his tongue at Sam, and punched him non-too gently on the arm.

"You know, Sam."

Dean placed his hand on Sam's chest and pushed till the frame of the bed Dean had just vacated banged into the back if Sam's legs, causing him to sit down rapidly. Dean smiled in a satisfied manner.

"Better!"

He pointed to the bed nearest the door, looking into Sam's surprised eyes.

"My bed, Sam. You were in my bed!"

"You wanna swap beds?"

Sam was smiling as he said it, and Dean smiled back nodding his enthusiasm, as he all but fell onto the bed by the door.

Sam watched his brother turn onto his stomach, his right hand snaking instinctively under the pillow, a small frown of irritation creasing his brow.

"Sam, something's still not right?"

Knowing immediately what was still wrong; Sam reached into the weapons bag beside his bed and hurriedly withdrew Dean's faithful old hunting knife, even as Dean's tired voice, muffled by his pillow drifted out.

"Sam"

"Here!"

Sam placed the knife in Dean's grasping right hand, and smiled as Dean sighed quietly, his hand closing happily about the familiar leather wrapped hilt.

"Ahhh...that's better!"

His eyes closed, and the softest,

"Night, Sam"

Drifted to his ear. Sam climbed into the bed furthest from the door, switching off the light as his brother, in his rightful place between Sam and any source of danger, succumbed finally to sleep.

Chapter ends.

This is one of my favorite chapters, I'd love to know if it rings your bells! Got a minute to review me??


	4. Chapter 4

**What's My Name Again, Sam?**

Apologies for the heresy of my musical choices but remember this is Dean after a head injury and anyway I adore it! Thanks as always to my friends and betas Lou and Kirsty without who's help i'd never get off the starting block! Oh and Lou...that last line...the eyebrow remind you of anyone? And Kripke, I so want your boys for my own!

Chapter Four Alternative Music and sweet potato fries!

Sam woke slowly from a peaceful and refreshing sleep and stretched his long body, popping joints pleasantly as he propped himself up on one elbow turning his gaze to his brother.

Dean was seated at the small table surrounded by the familiar paraphernalia of death and destruction. Their hand guns were drilled in neat order in front of him gleaming with a new coating of gun oil, as his skilled hands methodically honed the blade of his favourite hunting knife against his Arkansas oilstone.

His face was relaxed; his pale eyes hypnotised by the repetitive sweep of his own fingers as he worked the blade to a lethal cutting edge. His head was nodding in time to his actions, and Sam could hear the soft melodic hum of whatever tune was the beat of his unconscious backing track.

It was so usual a picture that Sam was ready to believe that the last few days were a bizarre dream, but then it occurred to him that it was not the norm for Dean to rise before him, and certainly not so far ahead of him that he would be almost finished with his lengthy weapons cleaning rituals before Sam emerged.

"Morning, Dean"

Sam smiled as he watched Dean start at the sound of his quiet greeting. Dean was the only person he knew who could trip out so totally on the smell of gun oil and powder residue.

"Hey, Sam, was beginning to think you were gonna sleep forever there!"

Sam yawned, placing his huge feet on the cold floor as he reached for his watch.

"What time is it anyway?"

Sam answered his own question.

"Hell, Dean, it's a quarter after 1pm! Why didn't you wake me?"

Dean shrugged, testing the large razor sharp blade against the pad of his thumb.

"You looked comfortable, seemed like you needed some rest."

His face turned wistful, his words, apologetic.

"I guess you didn't get much sleep over the last few days huh? I'm sorry, Sam!"

Sam rose and padded to stand by the table, dropping his hand to Dean's shoulder.

"Dean, you don't remember how you came to get cracked on the head do you?"

Embarrassed green eyes dipped to the table at Sam's question.

"No. I thought it would all have come back to me when I woke up, but it's no different!"

Dean raised his chin to look up at his brother, and Sam could see the beginnings of gentle panic in his expression.

"It's OK, Dean. Remember Dr Anderson said it would take a while to get it all back? It's less than 24 hours since you woke up, you gotta be patient."

Sam was relieved to see the edge of panic dissipate as Dean nodded; pulling strength from Sam's calm reassuring tone.

"And anyway you are remembering things..."

Sam nodded his head to the vast arsenal before Dean, and winced as Dean flipped the lethally sharp knife, catching it again in the same hand with a casual surety.

"Yeah. I guess"

"And I see you got your boots laced today."

Both brothers looked down at Dean's neatly tied boots.

"They comfortable, Dean?"

"They're OK, Sam. Why d'ya ask?"

"They're on the wrong feet, Bro!"

"Crap!"

Dean leaned down and set about righting the footwear related screw up as Sam turned for the bathroom.

"OK, so I'll grab a quick shower and then we'll go eat, OK?"

Dean looked up, smiling his approval for the proposal.

"Great Hurry up, Sam. I'm starving!"

SNSNSN

Sam emerged from the bathroom, to find Dean sitting where he'd left him, the guns however were all neatly packed away, and Sam's cell phone was now lying on the table.

"It keeps ringing."

Dean jabbed his finger at the phone his expression somewhere between annoyance and unease.

Sam started to laugh but thought better of it.

"Why didn't you just answer it?"

"Didn't know who was ringing?"

Sam raised his eyebrows.

"Well no! But you would have if you'd answered it!"

He reasoned, watching as Dean's face fell.

"What is it, Dean?"

Sam moved to sit on the foot of the bed next to his brother.

"What if I didn't...you know...like know who it was? I mean...What if it was somebody I know... but I didn't know them now, like this?"

Sam bit back his earlier rather insensitive retort, seeing how dented Dean's confidence really was.

"Sorry, Bro. Here, give me the phone I'll call 'em back"

He flipped open the cell and scrolled to the call register, smiling as he speed dialled the last caller.

"Sam!"

Bobby's worried voice burst from the small handset as Sam flicked to speakerphone, and waited to get a word in edgewise to the tumble of questions that followed each other in rapid succession, as Dean listened in.

"How is he, Sam?...Any change?...I was out of range, finishing up that vampire nest in the back of beyond so I didn't get the message till late yesterday, but I'm on my way in to ya now, should be there in a couple'a hours now at most..."

Bobby paused for breath and Sam took the opportunity to leap in.

"Bobby!"

Sam could hear their old friend start.

"Dean's doing much better, he's awake and outta hospital, in fact we're just gonna go eat."

Bobby's relieved laughter drifted down the air waves, filling the motel room with tinny good humour.

"Damn, that's sounds more like your brother! That's good to hear, Sam. Is Dean there? Put him on...gonna rail that boy good and proper for scaring me half to death..."

Sam looked at Dean, who was leaning away from the proffered cell phone, his hands raised before him in a gesture of nervous decline. Sam met his brother's sad eyes and saw a regretful lack of recognition for Bobby there. He nodded his understanding.

"Well, he's just gone to put the gear in the car, Bobby and then, as I said, we're gonna hit the diner. He hasn't eaten for days and you can imagine..."

Sam tailed off as Bobby's laughter pealed from the cell.

"Yeah, Sam, hell I can just imagine! Best feed him or he'll be unmanageable! Where shall I meet ya though? I guess you'll need some help to finish the job?"

"Yeah, Bobby. Meet us here at the motel; I gave you the address didn't I?"

"Yup, got it programmed in, Sam. Go eat and I'll see ya shortly"

Sam clicked the phone off, and looked at Dean's downcast face. He didn't need to ask whether Dean could remember Bobby, it was written all over his face that he couldn't. Sam stood and tossing the battered old leather jacket to his brother said.

"Come on, Bro. Let's go eat, I'm starving."

SNSNSN

Sam had anticipated a row in the parking lot about who was gonna drive to the diner; he still felt worried that Dean should take it easy for a while and so not drive. But he was surprised, and if he was honest saddened, when Dean simply slid into the passenger seat without argument.

The journey was not a long one and they settled comfortably into watching the scenery as the radio played softly in the background. It was some local station that played principally country music and Sam was amazed after a few miles to realise that Dean was softly singing along to the so out of character tune.

_Easy Silence_

_When the calls and conversations_

_Accidents and accusations_

_Messages and misperceptions_

_Paralyze my mind_

_Busses, cars, and airplanes leaving_

_Burning fumes of gasoline_

_And everyone is running_

_And I come to find a refuge in the_

_Easy silence that you make for me_

_It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me_

_And the peaceful quiet you create for me_

_And the way you keep the world at bay for me_

_The way you keep the world at bay_

The tune was soft and lilting, and Sam dwelt on the words wondering if Dean realised how appropriate they were to the role he so unconsciously accepted every day of his life. He glanced at his brother watching him sing, admiring his tuneful, harmonious voice.

_Monkeys on the barricades_

_Are warning us to back away _

_They form commissions trying to find_

_The next one they can crucify_

_And anger plays on every station_

_Answers only make more questions_

_I need something to believe in_

_Breathe in sanctuary in the_

_Easy silence that you make for me_

_It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me_

_And the peaceful quiet you create for me_

_And the way you keep the world at bay for me_

_The way you keep the world at bay_

Dean caught Sam's glance from the corner of his eye and he looked across, his singing dropping to a hum as he tried to work out if he was irritating his brother.

Sam nodded at Dean, needing him to feel able to sing at the top of his voice if he wanted to, and was rewarded with a louder more confident third verse.

_Children lose their youth too soon_

_Watching war made us immune_

_And I've got all the world to lose_

_But I just want to hold on to the_

_Easy silence that you make for me_

_It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me_

_And the peaceful quiet you create for me_

_And the way you keep the world at bay for me_

_The way you keep the world at bay_

_Easy silence that you make for me_

_It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me_

_And the peaceful quiet you create for me_

_And the way you keep the world at bay for_

_The way you keep the world_

The song ended and for a few seconds there was silence in the cabin of the Impala. Finally Sam glanced across at his brother, incredulity written across his laughing face.

"How do you possibly explain being tune perfect and knowing every word to a total chick flick country song, Dean?"

Dean laughed sheepishly.

"Not what we normally groove to, Sam?"

"So far from it, Dude. You're a Led Zeppelin, AC/DC man!"

Dean laughed out loud at that.

"Mullet rock? You are kidding me? Don't I have any taste, Sam?"

Sam joined in his brother's easy laughter thinking how much fun it was going to be to torment and humiliate Dean with this once his memory was restored.

"They were called 'The Dixie Chicks', dude!"

Sam watched as Dean searched for the just out of reach but achingly familiar response, and bit back his sigh as nothing came. Needing to hear it Sam prompted his lingering amnesiac sibling.

"Say, 'Bitch! Dean"

"Why, Sam?"

Sam's eyes sparkled with near tears as he choked out the words.

"Just say it! Humour me!"

Dean's epithet was enthusiastic in its delivery, though confused in its necessity.

"Bitch!"

Sam's response was a wistful sigh.

"Jerk!"

SNSNSN

The diner was small and homely and there was a smell of food that might actually be nutritious. It made Sam's stomach growl in time with Dean's as they made their way over to the counter.

"Hi, boys!"

The waitress was in her 40's and was an exceptionally fine looking woman. Her long auburn hair was swept off her face in a lustrous pony tail accentuating her high cheek bones, and the small apron and tight uniform shirt she wore showed off her slim waist and voluptuous breasts. She smiled all white teeth and sparkling blue eyes as she took in the Winchesters and Sam knew immediately that the smile was entirely for Dean, and he might as well be invisible.

He glanced to his left expecting to see his flirtatious brother revelling in the woman's lustful admiration, and was surprised to see that whilst Dean clearly recognised the woman's appreciation of him, he seemed a little embarrassed by the attention. In fact Sam would go as far as to say he looked downright uncomfortable, which Sam found touching yet bordering on hysterical.

"What can I get ya, Hunny?"

The question was innocent enough but it was accompanied by a look which said 'anything you want, especially me!' and Sam watched in increasing amusement as Dean looked anywhere but into those pretty blue eyes.

"What's good today?"

Sam spoke as he glanced up at the chalkboard menu over the counter, as Rita, according to her name tag, continued to stare playfully at his suddenly reticent brother.

"Well from here it all looks fine to me, Hun!"

The auburn haired flirt licked her lips slowly as she answered Sam without ever shifting her eyes from the now squirming Dean. Sam almost laughed too until he saw that Dean was at the point of bolting for the door, and he relented and said to his very grateful and suddenly bashful brother.

"Why don't you get us a table, Dean, I'll order the food, OK?"

Dean didn't need telling twice and they heard his grateful "Thanks, Sam" as he retreated across the diner, affording Rita a prime opportunity to study his fine ass as he departed.

Sam slipped into the booth seconds later having ordered their food, and took his place opposite a Dean who was doing his best to appear nonchalant and unruffled.

It was clear that Dean didn't really want to talk about what had just occurred and even though it was severely tempting to get back his cruel older brother for the agony he had given a sometimes gauche younger sibling as they had grown up, Sam decided it would be more fun to store this one to torment 'proper' Dean with when he finally returned.

"So, Dean, maybe we should get you up to speed with what we do?"

Sam cast his eye around the near empty diner as he spoke, reassuring himself that there was no one to overhear what was gonna be one hell of a potted history.

"OK, Sam."

"Where do you want me to start?"

Sam watched Dean weighing up his answer, wondering how on earth he was going to explain some of the things they had seen and done to a man who could barely remember his own name.

"I think I need to know how I got my head busted!"

Dean raised his hand self consciously to the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe rail track of sutures that decorated his forehead, and Sam nodded, even though his heart rate had just notched up a few BPM's remembering how near a miss Dean had had yet again.

Sam was just gathering his thoughts to start as plates descended onto the table before them, born by the smiling Rita.

"Here you go boys."

She smiled the full teeth and tits showstopper for Dean as she placed burger and sweet potato fries, meatloaf and fresh green beans and coffee mugs on the table.

"Coffee, Hunny?"

She slid the mug towards Dean, her words sweet with the promise of her barely concealed desire and Sam watched as his usually confident and flirty brother transformed into something resembling Bambi before his amused gaze.

Rita jiggled the coffee pot, her eyebrows raised in question at a squirming Dean.

Dean shook his head and pushed the mug carefully away from his place setting as Sam watched on in amazement. He had never known his brother refuse a cup of coffee, even really bad coffee and this didn't smell bad, in fact the rich, bitter black brew was making his own taste buds quiver in happy anticipation.

"No?"

Rita sounded disappointed, and placing the steaming glass jug down on the table she crouched at Dean's side, her hand resting seductively on his thigh. Dean pressed himself against the back of the booth his eyes locked onto Sam's in a desperate unvoiced plea of 'Help me!'

"Well maybe I can get something else for you, hunny? You look..."

She paused and ran an appraising eye over the decidedly uncomfortable Winchester, searching for a suitable word as she licked her upper lip and pouted.

"Thirsty!"

Dean's wide green eyes fled from her blue ones and back to the safety of Sam's gaze as he answered

"Milk!"

Dean spluttered.

"Can I have milk?"

Rita smiled, squeezing his thigh as she grinned sweetly as she rose to her feet.

"Sure you can, Sweetie! With those pretty green eyes you can have anything your heart desires!"

She reached over and patted Dean's twitching cheek, and pausing momentarily to fill Sam's mug with steaming java, then departed to get Dean's obscurely preferred beverage.

SNSNSN

The coffee was indeed good and Sam savoured the rich brew as Dean took the proffered milk from the lovely Rita and drained half the glass as the predatory waitress sighed and departed. The older hunter was suddenly aware that he was starving and his stomach growled and rumbled in agreement.

"Dig in, Dean!"

Sam gestured with his large hand to the delicious smelling plates of food and watched in utter amazement as Dean ignored the juicy burger and heavy fries in favour of the lean meatloaf and fresh vegetables.

Sam had silently observed as Dean had ravenously consumed at last 4 or 5 fork full's of the appetising homemade dinner before he spoke.

"That good, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam it's delicious. You not hungry? Your burger's going cold."

Sam nodded and shaking his head softly in wonder lifted the plate containing Dean's usual life blood nourishment of choice onto his place setting.

"You know something, Sam?"

Sam raised a greasy sweet potato fry to his mouth as he looked into Dean's earnest eyes.

Dean raised a fork full of green beans and gestured towards Sam's plate.

"You should have more respect for your digestive system, that's stuff's full of cholesterol and saturated mono tri glyceride doodahs!"

Dean wriggled his eyebrow for emphasis as he swallowed his vegetables and all Sam could do was pop in another fry as he nodded in bemusement at his happily munching big brother.

Chapter ends.

Hey how about a little review to keep my strength up??


	5. Chapter 5

**What's My Name Again, Sam? by DeansBabyBird**

Ok, so 'proper' Dean is starting to find his way back and the angst pixie came a calling so it's becoming a little darker but then isn't that the way for Mr Kripke's boys? Thanks to Lou and Kirsty for getting my head straight for this chapter, ladies you rock! Oh and a couple of swear words -tsk wash their mouths out!

Chapter Five Discussions at the Diner

"So, Sam, just what is it that we do? I'm guessing were not bible salesmen from the impressive arsenal we have in the trunk!"

Dean went for another fork full of meatloaf as he spoke, his trepidation for what Sam was going to say hidden - well almost! - behind wisecracks and ground beef.

Sam braced himself wondering how the hell he was going to explain their screwed up, frequently terrifying, downright random lives to his slowly re-emerging brother.

How could he be truthful without it either being so freaking unbelievable that Dean would laugh, or so horrifying that the rapidly diminishing meatloaf would be making an urgent but unappetising return visit?

Sam looked up into the intuitively inquisitive eyes that he had known for all his life and knew that his Dean was somewhere in there, swimming to keep his head above the surface of the rippling emerald lake of unknowns and illogicality's. He knew too that 'proper' Dean could deal with the grim reality of their lives; well in his own guarded way he could, but could this Dean? What if this vulnerable, less-guarded Dean couldn't?

Sam squirmed under the scrutiny of his brother's intense, questioning gaze. It allowed him no escape; gave no quarter, and he sighed softly as he reluctantly spoke.

"So, I should start at the beginning I guess?"

Dean nodded in a reasonable parody of calm nonchalance and Sam commenced, even as he marvelled at the anathema of green vegetables voluntarily passing his brother's lips.

"So we were born in Lawrence, Kansas and lived in a house with our Dad and Mom until you were 4 years old. I don't remember anything much at all about it 'cause I was just a baby. I only really know what you and Dad told me. So the only memories that I can give to you are those you gave to me. Ironic huh?"

Sam paused, looking for any glimmer of recognition from his brother, but found none. Dean was silent and focussed on Sam's words, his meal instantly forgotten before him. Sam pressed on, surprised at the size and intensity of the nervous knot in his belly that the telling of this tale was creating.

"They were called John and Mary Winchester and they loved each other very much..."

"Were called?"

Dean's question was no more than a soft exhalation and Sam watched him swallow as he spoke.

"They're dead, Dean."

Dean nodded tightly; sorrowful understanding and recognition in his pale eyes, and Sam watched his throat bob again.

"Their deaths are significant aren't they?"

Horror crossed Dean's face as he saw Sam start at his words.

"No wait, that's not what I meant. Of course losing them would be significant to us. I meant their deaths made us what we are... sort of brought us to what we do now?"

Dean's question was a purely intuitive one as he still couldn't bring either of his parents to mind, and the fact that he couldn't weighed heavily on him. He looked down at the table top as an uncomfortable coldness perfused his chest, ashamed of what Sam would think of him and his lingering inability to remember.

Sam absorbed and understood his brother's discomfort at his lack of recognition but was helpless to rectify Dean's distress.

This was turning out to be much worse than he had anticipated and Sam wished he could find Dean's elusive 're-boot' button so he didn't have to do this. It remained resolutely invisible though so he continued his voice quiet and intimate.

"Mom was murdered..."

Dean's head shot up, disbelief and pain evident in his wide green eyes.

"She was killed in a fire at our house."

Sam stopped, finding his mouth suddenly so dry he couldn't speak. He picked up his nearly cold coffee and sipped at the bitter brew as his brother unconsciously twisted the silver ring on his finger round and round.

"Who..."

A pause to catch a ragged breath.

"Who killed her?"

Sam hesitated then, nervous about how to proceed but feeling the waves of need for an answer rolling towards him.

"Not so much a who really, Dean...more a ..."

Sam looked through Dean's luminescent eyes straight into his bruised heart and found his inadequate and hurtful words halted in his mouth.

The older hunter observed the turmoil, horror and hurt in his brother's face; seeing his reluctance to speak and knew instinctively, and with a surprising surety, that their lives were full of realities that were inconceivable to most people.

He reeled suddenly with images of activities that would repulse a normal person. His head swam; filled with creatures and beings that were otherworldly and beyond the bounds of reasoned comprehension and yet he knew they were his and Sam's irrefutable reality.

"Guess it was more of a 'what' than a who eh, Sam?"

Sam nodded, acutely sorry to be the one to replant memories such as these for Dean; sorry to be the one who would extinguish some of the innocent freedom that had been his older brothers for the last few days.

"What was it? The thing that killed her, before I carried you from the fire? What the hell was it?"

Sam started to answer and then hesitated, realising that Dean had known without being told that he had carried Sam from the flames. His heart beat faster in his chest knowing that Dean had retained that scrap of information in light of all that he had lost.

"You remember carrying me out?"

Dean laughed, and even though Sam knew that for Dean the monumental pain of losing their Mom had just been cruelly rekindled, the laugh was genuine and warm.

"Yeah, Sam, I remember. It's a long time ago and you were a whole lot smaller then, but I remember it clear as anything. "

"So were you, Dean. A lot smaller I mean. Thank you for saving me."

Dean nodded slowly; the intensity of his gaze and the unconditional love therein halting Sam's words in his hitching heart.

"You're welcome, Sam."

They rode the profound but comfortable silence momentarily before Sam continued with his reluctant story of their life.

"It was a daemon, Dean. Well, a manifestation of a daemon. We don't really know..."

The awakening hunter looked into the now partially visible chaos that was his memory. Little of it yet made absolute sense and making the connections between the hotchpotch of grim events was as yet beyond him, but somewhere in the midst of the maelstrom was a core fundamental truth. Sam was his life; his reason for being and protecting Sam was the one thing he could always anchor himself to. However chaotic his world became there was always that. Always Sam.

Sam watched his brother's face as he adjusted to concepts that would have most men running for the hills. Yet he saw no hesitation, only a resigned, saddened acceptance. The absence of panic in his brother's countenance comforted Sam and he realised how he had missed the very protectiveness he always bitched about, but the sadness accompanying its return cut through to his soul.

"You want me to go on?"

It was a bitch of a question as Sam was damned if he wanted to continue, but if Dean needed this and was strong enough to hear it, then he would find a way to dish it out.

Dean dragged his gaze to his brother's and Sam shuddered as he saw the happy ignorance of the last few days slipping from Dean. It told in his handsome face, the slight smile on his full lips no longer quite reaching his expressive eyes.

"So let me try and piece it together, Sam. I need to be sure I've got it straight in my head..."

His hand drifted to the raw scar on his forehead, his long fingers tracing its neat path.

"So we hunt..."

Perplexion creased his brow as he struggled for the right word.

"We hunt... 'creatures'. That's what the arsenal in the trunk is for? That's why I, and I guess you, are covered in scars?"

Sam nodded, not really sure if Dean was actually remembering or just surmising.

"And our Dad? He hunted the thing that killed out Mom?"

Dean's simple, matter of fact questions tore at Sam but he knew they had to finish this. Dean needed to know.

"Yeah, him and us, for all our lives. That's what we do, Dean. The Winchesters hunt evil."

Dean nodded; the revelations weighing on his soul like the suddenly less welcome meatloaf that now churned in his gut.

"Is it just us?"

Sam didn't follow Dean's question and he raised his eyebrow.

"Are we the only hunters? Or are there loads of us?"

Sam laughed.

"There are only a few of us. And probably getting less and less by the day. Just as there are more and more of 'them' – the things we hunt."

Dean closed his eyes briefly and Sam regretted dreadfully what he had needed to say. They sat in silence, Sam respecting his brother's need for moment of contemplation.

"How you doing there, Dean?"

Dean raised his face and Sam saw a harder edge behind that deep green gaze than he had seen for the last few days. It was familiar and craved but regretted too.

"M'Okay, Sam."

Sam heard a change in his voice too. There was a slight emptiness; like a bereavement, as if the last few minutes had stolen something precious. And accompanying that there was also a returning hardness; an edge that Sam knew beyond doubt Dean needed to rediscover, but all the same it broke his heart to be the one to put it there.

"I'm sorry. Sorry to be the one to ..."

Dean interrupted him.

"This is not your fault, Sam."

"All the same..."

Dean shook his head. It was a gesture that contained a myriad of emotions: pain, hurt, loss. He looked directly into Sam's brooding hazel eyes.

"Finish it, Sam. I need to know it all. How did our dad die?"

It was the question that Sam had most dreaded Dean asking but he owed at least an explanation of their twisted existence to his brother, and so he tumbled the words out quickly before he lost his courage.

"We had a bad accident. The Impala was totalled by a truck and you were..."

Again, the breath to speak fled Sam's lungs and he paused; caught by the desire to jump to his feet and flee this place screaming.

"Please, Sam!"

The hand was gentle on Sam's wrist, but desperate need leapt from it scorching him.

"You were...fatally injured, Dean."

Sam watched as the unattainable desire for blessed ignorance etched itself on Dean's pale face. He saw his brother's strong and skilful hands twist repeatedly around each other in silent anxiety.

He so wanted to shut his damned mouth; to pretend he had nothing more to say, and to take back all he had. His wide eyes beseeched Dean to let him stop; just as the returned gaze forbade the action. He continued as he was bid.

"And so dad...he..."

Sam faltered then as he saw tears well in the unguarded jade pools that were Dean's eyes.

"We don't have to do this now, Dean."

"I think we do, Sam."

Dean's voice was choked with emotion but the fierceness was what shocked Sam and whilst part of him welcomed its protective return the rest of him grieved that there was need for it to be reawakened.

"He...he died for me, Sam? Is that what happened?"

Sam nodded then, unable to trust his voice to actually speak as he watched brittle emerald tears brim and finally fall onto the table top. He had no heart to go on. Was this not enough to have to tell someone? Did there have to be more?

How could he possibly tell Dean that not only had John given his life but that he had gone to Hell for him, damned to eternal torment for the son he loved?

"So he... what? How did it happen? I don't understand Sam! Help me understand. You have to explain it to me."

Dean raised his head and looked into his brother's deep hazel eyes and Sam saw the burdensome weight of the world cruelly descend again onto undeserving shoulders.

"He did a deal with a daemon."

Sam's voice was dead; flat with exhaustion and grief for the pain he had caused.

Only the slightest incredulity was visible on Dean's face and Sam marvelled at this brother's resilience given the onslaught of potential insanity that Sam was offering as his explanations.

"His life for mine?"

Sam nodded.

Dean gazed at his brother; the vertigo and nausea of his reeling heart assaulting his senses, making the room spin and reality buck beneath his feet. Yet he knew instinctively that there was still that little bit more to this incredible tale and he swallowed down the bile in his throat, ready to hang in there to the end.

He could see, hear and even smell the reluctance to continue emanating from Sam in waves as his anger flared. This was his life; his birthright and he needed to know. If he could suck it up then Sam would damn well have to as well. His voice was a pissed off hiss spat from behind gritted teeth.

"And?..."

"And what, Dean? That's not enough for you? I tell you that evil creatures are real and stalk the Earth. That a fuck of a daemon murdered our mom. That you were very nearly killed, and then the daemon took our father's life too and you ask what else? We live the life of hunted fugitives, we kill and risk being killed way too often and you ask what else? Isn't that enough, god-dammit?"

Sam felt the heat of horror at what he had just told his brother burn within him. It hurt him to hurt Dean so and his guilt bubbled to the surface as furious barely controlled anger.

They stared each other down; the air around them thick with crackling fury, like predatory beasts over a fresh and bloody kill.

Then suddenly Dean laughed. He laughed out loud and from the soles of his feet. He laughed until further tears fell from his sparkling green eyes and Sam's voice joined his own, as the other occupants of the diner stared at them in suspicious concern and they were compelled to rise and flee.

SNSNSN

They reached the Impala together; still convulsed with the hysteria of their bizarre and horrific lives and Sam was not so surprised to find himself pushed away from the driver's side, as Dean snatched the keys from his hand.

He didn't complain; but climbed into his much more familiar and, if he were honest, comfortable passenger seat, as Dean gunned the throaty engine and squealed them away from the diner.

They had driven a mile or so; Sam watching the so familiar tap-tap of Dean's fingers on the steering wheel, before the silence was broken by anything other than a chuckle.

"So, Sam..."

Dean swivelled his head toward his brother as he sprawled on the bench seat, his long legs folded in relaxation into the foot well of the old Chevy.

"Umm?"

"These creatures...?"

Sam watched mischief flood the pearlescent green of Dean's eyes.

"Yeah...?"

Sam was acutely aware that guarded caution was suddenly called for if he was not to be made a sudden fool of.

"Are they all real then?"

Dean's eyes were alive with mirth, and he grinned a million kilowatt smile at his baby brother.

"Try me, Dean!"

Sam knew he was being sucker punched but it was a welcome return of a big part of 'proper' Dean and he recklessly let himself be set up as the fall guy.

"Vampires?"

"Uh-huh"

Sam nodded to affirm his answer, to see Dean whistle and pout out his lip.

"Witches...?"

Another nod from Sam, as laughter crinkled the corners of Dean's mouth.

"Leprechauns...? Werewolves?"

"Where's this going, Dean?"

The feigned look of innocence was almost as convincing as the real one Sam had seen over the last few days. Almost but not quite, and Sam found himself smiling despite the fact he knew he was being set up for a fall.

"Gee really, Sam? And what about unicorns and the Easter Bunny?"

Sam laughed then, his smile mirroring his big brother's.

"Oh, and how about killer clowns?"

"Jerk!"

Sam punched Dean hard on the arm then, as their hysterical laughter filled the car, and Dean gasped out just one word.

"Bitch!"

Chapter ends

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	6. Chapter 6

**What's My Name Again, Sam? by DeansBabyBird**

Thanx Kripke for letting me play so nice with your boys and to Kirsty and Lou for keeping me on track when my non existant concentration wavers.

Chapter Six: Bobby.

Sam noted Bobby's deceptively broken down looking truck parked in the motel lot, as Dean pulled the Impala to a stop before the door of their room. He said nothing wondering and hoping if Dean's fast returning memory would extend to their loyal old friend.

He mulled over the last traumatic hour in the diner and knew categorically that he wanted his big brother back. Though they irritated each other, and sometimes Sam longed for nothing more than 5 minutes peace from his annoying sibling, he wanted him back with a sudden and overwhelming desire.

Having this other 'Dean' here had affirmed for him that he only really ever felt safe when he was sure where his brother was, and when he knew that Dean was there for him. It was a salutary realisation and one that might require a little thinking through, but it was a reality.

They exited the car and Sam watched in guarded dismay as Dean passed the truck without the slightest blink of recognition, as he headed for the room. Dean's hand was on the door handle before Sam could warn him of Bobby's presence and he opened the door to find an intruder in their room, lying on his bed.

Sam moved urgently on his giraffe-long legs desperate to reach Dean before he reacted violently to the invasion of their space, like he had in the parking garage with the Doctor, and possibly injured Bobby.

Dean looked at the grizzled old face of the scruffy man rising from the bed before him and found himself swimming in a disorienting mêlée of fragmented memories. It made the room spin before him and he stopped on the spot trying to stop the world tipping and pitching before him.

snsnsn

_Dean was cold, bone chillingly cold, and his arm hurt like a bitch, but they were inconsequential sensations compared to the fear in his heart and the weight of responsibility that bore down on him making him breathless. Without really being aware of what he was doing he gently stroked his hand through Sammy's hair as his 11year old brother clung to him, both arms thrown around Dean's waist and his head buried into his chest as he sobbed. _

_They stood at the foot of the bed that Dean and Bobby had carried John Winchester to; after Dean had driven his unconscious bleeding father and crying brother on the endless journey from the disastrous poltergeist hunt to Bobby's broken down cottage. _

_For each mile of the drive Dean had gently assured his distraught brother that their father would be fine; they just needed to get him to Bobby and he would patch John up as he had so many times before. He had said it real convincingly and Sam's tears had lessened at the same rate as Dean's terror at the stillness of their father had increased, and by the time they reached the cottage he was silently nauseous with terror and pain._

_They had manhandled John into the house Dean working hard to disguise his throbbing arm; and Bobby had gone to work cleaning the frightening looking head wound and suturing it as Dean and Sam had watched, praying for their father to just say one coherent thing._

_Bobby had almost been on his final stitch when they had seen John's eyes flutter open. He had smiled at Sam and pulled the crying boy into his arms, roughly tousling his hair, as Bobby grumbled at him to 'sit the hell still if he didn't want a scar so ugly that no female would ever look at him again.'_

_They had settled John down to sleep then, and Dean had prised the limpet that was his brother from his trembling body and whispered him gently to sleep as Bobby watched on from the door._

_And it was then, after John and Sam were safe, that Bobby had turned his attention to Dean, asking with a brusque softness._

"_You gonna let me check that arm now?"_

_Dean had been trotting out his usual "M'fine!" line when the trembling he had been trying so hard to conceal had become a violent shaking that threatened to take his already wobbly legs out from under him._

_He could clearly remember Bobby's strong hands supporting him to a seat at the table in the small kitchen; and the hip flask of bourbon that was thrust into his good hand as Bobby carefully got him out of his jacket, exposing the deep, gruesome lacerations that Dean couldn't even remember how he acquired. _

_The suturing had been the joy it always was and Bobby had turned a blind eye as Dean had consumed the entire flask of liquor, as he hiccupped his way through the pain. He didn't recall much about exactly how he got to bed; but he remembered that, without him ever asking, they had passed by John's room and Bobby had supported him on his wobbly legs whilst he laid his bandaged hand on his sleeping father's brow._

_However his overarching memory was of Bobby kneeling at the side of the bed when Dean was too woozy to bend down to take his own boots of. And of Bobby's hand softly ruffling his hair as he fell asleep with Sam pressed close to his chest, his gravelly voice telling him what a good job he had done and how proud he was of Dean._

snsnsn

Sam reached for Dean, grabbing him firmly by his shoulders as he swayed drunkenly on unsteady feet; his eyes on Bobby's worried face as the older hunter rose and moved across the room to stand in front of the brothers.

"Damn it, Sam, I thought you said he was OK?"

Bobby's gruff voice betrayed the concern that also flashed in his eyes as he placed his palm flat against Dean's chest to help steady him.

"M'fine!"

Dean mumbled in annoyance as he took a deep breath in; pushing away the shadowy memories and the supporting hands. He planted his feet more firmly and tensed his body to halt his lateral sway, his eyes firmly on the quizzical hunter before him.

"Jesus, Dean, that's a hell of a scar you got yourself there!"

Two sets of dark eyes watched as Dean's hand went self-consciously to the ugly sutures crisscrossing his brow, as he appeared lost momentarily in thought. Then he smiled; a slow soft warm smile that lit up his pale green eyes, as he said quietly.

"S'OK, Bobby. Chicks dig scars!"

Sam laughed then in relief that his returning brother had managed to remember their loyal old friend; and Bobby too smiled, though in slight bemusement at the excessive mirth Dean's familiar comment seemed to induce in Sam.

Dean took in the scruffy man before him and was locked in indecision as to his next course of action and his hesitancy morphed the smile into a subtle frown.

Sam watched Dean's face change and wondered what was going on in his still slightly scrambled head. He looked at Bobby; catching the older hunters equally confounded glance, as he tried to silently warn their friend that Dean was still not quite... 'Dean'.

"It's good to see you, Bobby."

Dean stepped forward and hugged the older man tightly; a lifetime of poorly articulated thanks pouring into the crushing embrace, as Sam looked on.

It took a second or two before Bobby returned the hug; a second or two of consternation expressed as a look of grizzled surprise over Dean's shoulder to Sam, who returned his best 'just-go-with-the–moment' shrug.

Dean stepped back from his old friend; the smile returning to his face as Bobby spoke to them both.

"Well this is great and all, boys, but I'd be more comfortable if we skedaddled outta here."

"Why the rush, Bobby?"

Sam addressed the older hunter, his voice serious, knowing Bobby didn't make request's without having a good reason.

"That nest of vampires I was smoking when you're call came in?"

Sam nodded.

"Well, I just got a call from Josh Chambers, son of the guy I was working the job with..."

Bobby pulled off his stained old cap and rubbed tiredly at his face as he spoke.

"Josh says that we missed some of the vamp family and they came after his Daddy last night..."

"He OK?"

Dean's wide eyes betrayed his minor lingering difficulty in getting his head around the whole Winchester Life.

Sam looked at Bobby; knowing from his demeanour that the answer was not a good one.

"No, Dean. He's in ICU. They beat him up bad. Josh don't know if he's gonna make it..."

The horror of the situation hung in the air and Sam studied his brother's face checking how well he was handling it. It was fine having a hypothetical discussion with an amnesiac and telling him that he hunted supernatural creatures, but it was suddenly different when the reality of graphic injury and death became a tangible consequence. Sam expected anything: possible panic, horror, disbelief, but saw only a saddened recognition that this was their lives. It made Sam sorrowful again.

"So what do we do, Bobby?"

Dean's question was directed at the hunter and Sam realised that, whilst he had been momentarily lost in contemplation, Dean had already begun gathering their meagre possessions together, ready to leave as Bobby had suggested.

"We'll go back to my place and work out where the rest of the nest is hiding out..."

Bobby cast a slight glance Sam's way as he spoke; aware that something was slightly off with Dean but not really able to pinpoint exactly what, and seeking reassurance that he was OK to go on with the discussion.

Sam nodded subtly, his grim smile saying that he'd explain it when he got the chance and to just carry on.

"And then work out what the hell we are gonna do about the situation."

Their scant gear packed they walked back out into the cold day; the white winter sunshine doing little to warm them. Sam looked at the room key in his hand. It was attached to a fob that was made out of an old coke can and was huge. He handed it to Dean seeing a subtle way to get him a moment alone with Bobby.

"Dean. Drop this back will ya while I pack the trunk?"

Dean nodded and turned towards the scruffy reception, as Bobby and Sam launched the duffel bags into the trunk of the Impala.

"So Sam, what's going on here?"

Bobby watched Dean's retreating back as he spoke keeping his voice low so the elder Winchester couldn't hear anything they said.

"He's got amnesia, Bobby. It's improving but he still doesn't really remember much about our lives or what we do."

Bobby nodded, his expression serious, taking in and processing the facts of the situation.

"So what does he remember?"

"Well he knows me and he just about recognised you."

Bobby's face was tight with tension.

"He doesn't remember how to hunt vamps though, does he, Sam?"

Sam frowned then; glancing at the door through which Dean had disappeared.

"No, he doesn't, Bobby. Hell at this moment he's not sure of his own name and he still can't quite manage to get his boots on the right foot! So I guess, no, he probably doesn't remember vampire slaying 101, OK?"

Bobby kicked at the tyre as their collective anger at the situation eddied and swirled around them.

"So how are we gonna keep him safe if we go after these blood suckers, Sam? Tell me that?"

Sam suddenly found himself very angry then. Angry at Bobby for pointing out the obvious, but also for voicing the unthinkable doubt in Dean's ability to hunt that had been eating at Sam for days now.

"Well what the hell do you wanna do, Bobby? Maybe we should just leave him here on his own? I just told him that our mom was killed by a daemon, that he was nearly killed and that our dad gave his life to save him but Winchesters are resilient right? Jeeze, Bobby. He's reeling from finding out all that and he has nothing he can remember to ground it all with. I can't leave him on his own now. He has to come with us and we have to find a way to keep him safe."

"OK, Sam. I'm hearing ya. Well then we are gonna have to find some way to back squad him when it comes to the rough stuff, we can't risk him..."

Sam held his hand up as he furiously dragged their huge blessed silver blades from their weapons cache, before slamming the lid of the truck noisily.

"Don't, Bobby!"

Sam couldn't bear to hear his consummate hunter brother described like a nuisance child at a grown-ups picnic. As Sam glowered the door opened and Dean walked back across the parking lot towards them.

Sam lowered his voice.

"We'll work it out when we get back to your place. OK?"

Bobby nodded, his continued discomfort with the bizarre situation evident in his tense stance.

Dean watched Sam and Bobby as he approached and knew they were talking about him. It didn't take a genius to work out that they were worried about him and his ability to be part of the team. It made him uncomfortable knowing they had doubts about him and his capability to hunt, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Crap! Where was the damned re-boot that Dr Anderson had promised him? He'd had enough of this now. There was only so long that a guy could pull off being the man with no name and wearing his boots on the wrong feet!

"So you good to go, Dean?"

Sam's voice was all faked confidence and lightness and Dean smiled knowingly at both men, playing his part to try and lessen the tension.

"Sure, Sam. Whatever you say."

SNSNSN

They were silent as the Impala ate up the miles of blacktop as Dean followed Bobby's truck through the winter landscape. Despite his anxiety Dean found the hum of the engine soothing and he knew that he always had and always would find the throaty growl a comfort. It was part of him, and though he may not yet entirely remember how, he still knew that it was.

Sam watched his brother slowly relax and was reluctant to broach the subject of how to handle the upcoming hunt. He juggled with the words in his mind until the buzz of the dilemma and the hum of the road noise became one and he slipped into sleep.

SNSNSN

"Sam!"

Bobby's growl woke Sam from his slumbers and he jerked to a startled wakefulness as the car door was wrenched open beside him.

Dean was there; and thrust a deadly panga machete into his hands along with a bottle of holy water as Sam hastily exited from the Impala, taking in the fact that they were pulled up on the dirt road leading to Bobby's house. He knew instantly that something was wrong and the well concealed but slight wildness of Dean's eyes did nothing to dispel his concerns.

Bobby strode from his truck to join them; a crossbow and a handful of silver tipped quarrels grasped in his capable hands and a look of concern on his shadowed face. Darkness was falling and Sam realised, with considerable embarrassment that he must have slept for hours as Dean had silently followed Bobby's truck.

"It don't look good, Sam"

Bobby kept his voice low, his eyes intent on the road to the house.

"I purposefully left the light in the study on when I left but now it's off. Something turned it out and I'm betting it's the vampires. I think they're in the house waiting to jump us"

Sam nodded, his hand tightening unconsciously on the machete as the older man's concern ramped up his own anxiety levels, pushing away the last remnants of sleep.

"So you and I go in steady..."

Bobby held Sam's eyes as he spoke; his chin just lifting slightly nudging Sam's eyes towards Dean, as his face silently said 'what do we do about your brother?'

Dean didn't miss the looks and unspoken exchanges between the hunters and it burned in his chest that they doubted him, adding another unhappy dimension to the self doubt and fear already churning his gut. He hated being considered inadequate and hated even more knowing that he potentially was the liability that Sam and Bobby feared. That coupled with the unreality of the situation had him jittery as hell.

"And I do what guys? Sit here on my butt eating popcorn?"

His voice was soft and all the more menacing for the lack of volume, as the contained anger within him growled out in those few words.

"Dean..."

Sam started to speak and then flinched as he saw the raw hurt on his brother's face and knew that he absolutely understood and thoroughly resented their doubts in him. Pale jade eyes burned with anger as they pierced through the gathering gloom and Sam felt his resolve waver in the face of his brother's barely restrained fury.

"You stay here, Dean, and watch our backs. I just don't know if you're firing on all cylinders at the moment, boy, and neither Sam nor I can do with having to worry about your amnesiac ass just now."

Bobby's quiet voice had a surprising but indisputable authority to it, and both the brothers could hear that voice resonate powerfully within their memories. It was the other key voice of authority that they had known as they grew up and whereas their father's had often been tinged with anger and an urgency that left it lacking in warmth, Bobby's never had. Even when he was gruff or tired or pissed with them, they had been able to hear Bobby's love for them beneath whatever words actually left his lips.

And so it was now. The words were hurtful beyond measure for Dean to hear but they had an irrefutable logic that he could not deny, even though he was desperate to do so.

Dean looked at the old hunter and Bobby saw his disappointment and punishing self doubt and realised that this was what he had been unable to pinpoint as lacking when he had first seen Dean at the motel. The Dean that was disappearing before his eyes had been in possession of the vestiges of a lightness of heart that Bobby had now, with those few choice words, crushed out of him. He hated what he had done; but if it would keep Dean from being a danger either to himself or to them, then he knew he had had no choice.

Dean's green eyes blazed with the constrained anger that heated his blood and begged for the familiar release only available in the hunt. He wanted to lash out and get rid of his frustration and shame in the adrenaline rush of the job.

Yet he didn't. He breathed out one heavy but calm breath before he spoke, resigned to his hopefully temporary back squadded role.

"OK, Bobby. Whatever you say."

The old hunter nodded his relief; his eyes scanning Dean's checking that the words were not just lip-service before hefting the cross bow and striding down the drive.

Sam looked at his brother and couldn't find the words to say what he needed to. He wanted to say '_I'm sorry and it'll all be fine tomorrow_'. But Winchester tomorrows were not the sort that contained fine as a rule. He wanted to say '_be careful, be safe till I come back'_ but the words were wrong coming from him; they were the words that he saw written all over his brother every time they were parted, the words that he knew Dean carried in his heart every minute of his day.

"Stay in the car and..."

The words died on Sam's lips as he thought of all the times, all the hunts where Dean had said those very words.

Dean smiled then.

"Sure, Dad!"

Sam snorted; and moved to follow Bobby, his gaze lingering for just another second on those intensely pale green eyes as he turned and stalked after Bobby.

Chapter ends

Reviews are like candy and you could feed my sugar addiaction!


	7. Chapter 7

**What's My Name Again, Sam? By DeansBabyBird**

OK so here comes my attempt at a big snarly fight scene with nasty monsters...Hope it scares the & outta ya and big thanks to Lou for helping me with being mean and tough (not really me...I'm too much of a girl!) and to Kirst as always too!

Chapter 7. Vampires.

Sam and Bobby crouched in the surrounding darkness and strained to listen for any noise from the house which might tell them the number and positions of their anticipated adversaries, but there was only a resounding and un-nerving silence.

Sam stretched his long neck, whilst retaining the protective shadows, and chanced a glance in the window. The house looked normal, untouched and there was nothing to suggest that anyone other than Bobby had been there in days. He ducked carefully back down and found the older hunters eyes in the soft glow from the window. He shook his head and watched Bobby frown both in relief and frustration. Maybe he was wrong? Perhaps the vampires had not tracked him down so there was nothing waiting for them and Sam could get back to Dean and be sure he was OK. Sam stole a glance back up the dirt road and could just make out the shine of the old Chevy's paintwork in the blue grey moonlight. He peered into the darkness looking for a glimpse of his brother, desperate to know that he was safe.

Sam jumped as he felt Bobby's arm on his and he turned his head to meet a concerned dark blue gaze.

"Dammit, Sam. I need your attention here boy."

Bobby's low growl focussed Sam back into the moment and he gave his old friend an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. It's just...I remember what it was like to be the one left in the car. I understood it was for my benefit; it was about being kept safe and away from danger, but Bobby, I never felt safe. I knew as well as you did what was out there in the darkness, and it was way too hard waiting to see which one of your family was gonna come back all torn up or worse."

Sam's face was a picture of anguish and Bobby murmured sympathetically.

"I'm worried for him too, Sam."

Bobby raised his chin toward the distant car.

"But we just can't risk Dean not being able to play his part when the chips are down or, worse still, freaking out on us. I know he hated being left behind, but for this one time, till we can figure out what to do to get him back, it is the only thing we can do without risking us all. Now let's sweep the house and deal with what is or isn't here, and then we can power down and work this all out."

Sam nodded, knowing Bobby's quiet words made good sense, as they rose as one and stalked towards the house in synchronised, professional hunter mode.

SNSNSN

Dean sat in the Impala listening to the noises of the darkness and was surprised how familiar and comfortable he was with them. He recognised the soft calls of the various night dwellers and, in a strange way; he was entirely at home in this dark, nocturnal world. In fact he felt, perversely, almost at peace.

However, he acknowledged too that he was afraid and he knew in that moment that fear was a totally familiar emotion for him, and that the recent absence of that background vibration of contained terror was not his norm. He welcomed back the twist of his gut like a despised but long held prejudice.

He glanced down the track and it took only seconds for his skilled eye to pick out his brother in the darkness, even though Sam was artfully concealed, and he felt his heart pound as he watched his brother rise with Bobby and move towards the door of the house.

This was so not right! He felt like he should be there with them. Hell, it burned in him that he should be leading the charge, looking out for his brother. He could hear a strong gruff voice in his head telling him over and over again to look out for Sam. But he had promised to stay put, and however much the urge to be in the thick of the hunt called to him, he would not put Sam and Bobby at risk. At least he didn't think he would. Would he?

Dean pushed away the urge to leap from the car and sprint under the cover of the cloaking darkness to their side. He looked at the weapon on the seat next to him and his blood began to hum softly in his veins as his hands itched to be at one with the deadly blade.

SNSNSN

Sam and Bobby moved with practised ease through the house, checking out each room and locking it down as they progressed, and finding nothing at all out of the ordinary. They swept the entire ground floor, exchanging wary glances as they moved to the steps leading to the upper floor, still on their guard.

SNSNSN

Dean sensed something awry long before he saw anything. It started as a prickling in his skin that made him shudder and wriggle in his suddenly itchy clothes. He found himself unable to remain still and looked down to find the machete now clasped firmly in his grasp, the warmth of the leather bound handle steadying his twitching hand. He didn't recall the moment that he picked it up from the seat beside him, but he knew that now it was nestled into its rightful place in his powerful hand he was not likely to put it down again.

He stepped quietly from the car; unable to remain within its supposed safe confines, as the thrill of the hunt surged through his lithe muscles, wincing a little as the old Chevy's heavy door squeaked as it closed. He stood then; a vision of contained stillness in the consuming darkness, and observed the scene before him waiting for whatever was in the shadows to show itself.

His overriding sensation was of a sudden absence of sound. The voices of the usual night dwellers silenced by the miasma of increasing terror that now smeared the landscape. His eyes became as one with the pale of the moon; as he scanned all around searching for the evil creatures he now knew, with overwhelming certainty, were out there.

The motion, when it came, was a small, almost imperceptible, one, a shimmer of darkness on deeper darkness in the periphery of his keenly attuned vision. It flickered only long enough for him to focus on its approximate location and then was gone again; absorbed into the obsidian darkness. He remained frozen, his only movement the rapid blinking of his dilated eyes and the pumping of his chest, awaiting the confirming movement that would show him what hid in the sinister shadows.

Seconds seemed hours and restrained tension built burning lactic acid in muscles screaming for release, yet he did not move. He only waited; every sinew poised to respond to the threat of evil, his bright eyes wide with anticipation. Finally the wind stirred the clouds to clear and the cold light of the moon shone on the atrocities crouched on the roof of the house, showing them in all their preternatural horror.

There were two. Their skin was dry parchment with a harsh tracery of blood hungry vessels pulsing beneath and Dean watched as they opened wide their mouths, fangs gleaming in the pale blue moonlight, and howled their rallying call to the others.

Long legs launched him towards the house then, adrenaline pumping through his hunter's body as he screamed the one word that was his battle cry.

"Sam!"

SNSNSN

Sam heard Dean's cry as he and Bobby reached the final room of the upper floor and he lunged for the window as Bobby hurriedly turned out the light so Sam could see beyond the glare of the glass.

There were eight of them in total; and as Sam watched in horror the leader, a tall black haired male, directed three of those emerging from the surrounding trees toward his fast advancing brother whilst the others turned for the steps of the house.

"No, Dean. No!"

Sam chanted the litany under his breath, panic swamping him, as he watched Dean's rapid charge slow as he faced the vampires ranged before him. He raised his foot to the glass, shattering it out, as Bobby hurtled for the head of the stairs raising the crossbow to his shoulder as he went.

"Dean!"

Sam screamed his brother's name and saw pale green eyes wide with fear briefly flicker in his direction before they focussed back on the three vampires advancing on him, the machete gleaming in his hand. Sam looked back to the other five who were entering the house. The leader paused and smiled up at Sam, his fangs gleaming as he laughed.

"Say goodbye to him, Hunter. We would feast. My children are hungry and rich, warm blood sings in his veins. They will butcher him as yours butchered my family. I salute you, Hunter and I bring you my pain to taste."

"_Sam?_"

Bobby's shout had an edge of panic and Sam tore his eyes away from the scene before him and glanced to the head of the stairs.

"There's two, maybe three of 'em coming in the front door, but I don't know how many others there are. They can climb the walls, Sam. Seen 'em do it. They might come in anywhere. Watch the windows."

"Bobby, Dean's out there alone and three of them are..."

Bobby could hear the terror in the younger man's voice and he understood it as his own heart was hammering in time with Sam's. He knew three vampires with their incredible power and agility were more than a match for any man and he would have doubted Dean's chances were he at full strength. Now, however, he knew Dean would not survive for long unless they got to him, but for that he needed Sam's full concentration. He steeled his voice, hitting Sam with words hard enough to curb his escalating panic.

"I know, Sam. And Dean's only chance is us. Get your ass into gear, boy. If we don't smoke the ones heading our way then he's on his own and there won't be anything left of your brother to save!"

He watched as Sam paled at the harshness of his words but then was relieved to see his hunters instincts kick in.

"I'm ready, Bobby. We've got five to take down and then we can help Dean with his three."

Sam's voice was calm and the older hunter nodded holding his gaze momentarily. The sound of glass shattering in the rear of the house had Sam sprinting for the door of the bedroom, machete in hand, as Bobby raised his crossbow to the evil at the foot of the stair.

SNSNSN

Dean heard the shatter of glass as he charged at full pace towards the vampire pack and he slowed, raising his head to the upper floor to see Sam's horrified face. He could taste Sam's concern for him, feel it in his heart, and it heightened the fire burning through his body. His every instinct cried out to protect his brother and he was assaulted with the myriad memories of endless moments like this, and they all had one only purpose, were all only ever to ensure Sam's safety.

He heard his brother call his name over the drumming of his heart and glanced briefly into the tortured face. He sought desperately for his consummate hunter's mask, anything to reassure Sam and quell the panic for him that he saw in that gaze. He knew instantly that he had failed, and that Sam saw straight through his wide pale jade eyes to the raw terror in his soul.

SNSNSN

Sam kicked the door to the bedroom open as the Vampire struggled to right itself amidst the shattered glass on the floor. It was severely injured; its arms and legs lacerated by its crash through the pane of glass and Sam was keen to turn that to his advantage. He could see that if he let it rise to its full height he would be forced to tilt his head upwards to look into its unholy face, and he would forfeit some of his current gain. He braced his feet and took tighter hold on the blade with his sweating hand as the thing scuttled toward him on all fours its sharp fangs bared, saliva dripping from them.

Behind him he heard the whoosh-thunk of Bobby's crossbow and the welcome scream as blessed silver quarrel struck corrupt flesh, slowing the advance of the un-dead creatures.

Sam faced the one before him, using his towering height to give him some advantage as he made vicious sweeps with the razor sharp machete. It lunged for him, howling in pain and anger, and Sam raised his arm high sweeping down to decapitate it with one powerful blow of the quivering blade.

He turned on his heels and sprinted back to the head of the stairs as two more advanced on Bobby as he aimed his second arrow towards the screaming atrocities. The barb hit its mark and one of the creatures fell back howling, to join its mate writhing at the foot of the stairs. One more continued the climb and Bobby dropped the crossbow knowing there was no time to reload. He glanced at Sam as he pulled a panga from its sheath at his belt.

"I'll take this one, Sam. You finish those two."

He gestured vaguely at the two downed at the foot of the stairs and Sam nodded, vaulting the balustrade to land on the stairs behind the advancing vampire.

"Bobby, watch out for the leader, we haven't taken him out yet and he looks the most dangerous!"

"Got ya, Sam. Go finish those two and be careful."

Sam heard his comrade's voice register distantly as he concentrated on the grim task before him.

SNSNSN

Dean stood completely stationary as the three vampires surrounded him, their howls skimming through the air to rebound and reverberate from the trees, further intensifying the cacophony of evil. He concentrated on his breathing, counting down the panic he felt in a slow, familiar drumbeat. He knew how to do this. Hunting was at the core of his very being; he could feel it inside himself as a heat, a desire for battle with all things evil. He relaxed then; feeling the blade in his hand become one with his graceful limbs, as his breathing slowed. He was ready. He waited for that which was unholy to make the first move.

They came at him en masse; their screams terrifying, but he hardly heard them as his years of training and his natural skill were brought into fluid motion. The ensuing moments were a blur of fierce fighting with guttural cries of pain and spurting blood decorating the darkness. Dean moved with a cat-like grace through the sea of flailing limbs, his hands and feet punching and kicking as his blade hacked and severed. He downed two of the creatures quickly, cleaving their heads from the necks with the brute force of his strong arm and the fire in his belly.

The third backed away slightly, its many wounds staining its blond hair crimson as it wove a rich vermillion pattern onto the grass beneath their feet. It breathed heavily, its mouth held wide and fangs showing as it panted, and its un-worldly eyes holding the hunter's sparkling emerald gaze.

Dean was breathless, but his body hummed with energy and his eyes were dilated with the thrill of the hunt. He was amazed how instinctive his skills were and how powerful they made him feel. He was aware of flares of pain, wounds from claws and kicks but he was able to push them all into a corner of his mind as his focus sharpened on the one remaining beast before him. He started toward it, and the creature hissed its rage and flew at him.

SNSNSN

Sam Dispatched the first of the downed vampires with swift measure and then turned to face the second. Bobby's quarrel had done less harm to this one, spearing it through the arm but it was still on its feet and angry as hell. They circled each other Sam looking for an opening to get in with his machete as shouts and crashing noises came from the head of the stairs.

"You OK, Bobby?"

Sam's harsh shout carried up the stairs as he continued to spar with the remaining creature. No reply came and Sam's anxiety levels ramped up a notch.

"Bobby!"

"M'OK, Sam"

Bobby's voice was tired and accompanied by a rhythmic bump, bump, bump noise that had Sam curious. He managed a glance to the stairs and saw the decapitated head of the final upstairs vampire bouncing its way from step to step, helped on its way by Bobby's boot.

The wounded vampire screamed its rage and hurled itself at Sam, catching the distracted hunter slightly off guard and they toppled to the floor; Sam's machete skittering from his grasp as his arm impacted the ground.

Bobby watched in horror as the tall hunter fell to the floor fighting to fend off the claws and teeth of the enraged creature. The older hunter flung himself at the stairs, slipping on the smeared blood on each tread as he raced to Sam's aid.

SNSNSN

The leader watched as his children were systematically decapitated by the hunters and he screamed his anger and pain into the swirling darkness. He wanted revenge for the destruction of his family, but he would not settle just for the death of each of these loathed humans. He wanted them to know the agony of loss they had wrought upon him, to feel his grief and despair. He pushed his unholy consciousness into the maelstrom of blood, rage and fear before him; seeking to know which of the three men before him was the dominant hunter, wanting to save that death for the last. He would kill the others before the leader as they had done to him.

Sam groaned as the filthy claws of the beast tore at his arm where it held him as they rolled on the floor at the base of the stairs. He had so far managed to keep the creatures biting fangs from him, but he was tiring and he knew he would not be able to resist the phenomenal strength of the vampire for more than a few more seconds. His breath burned in his chest, intensifying the terror he felt knowing Dean was facing down three of the vampire's mates alone. He gasped breathlessly, desperate to dislodge the snarling beast but unable to find the strength to do so.

Sam felt the silver tipped quarrel from Bobby's cross bow thunk into the vampires back and the creature reared off him, its hands going to its back as it screamed in pain. He saw his opportunity and pushed with both hands and feet; rolling the heavy body off him to lay panting, as he watched Bobby fling the crossbow to the ground and raise his arm high in the air, machete in his hand.

Bobby thrust down with all his strength; swallowing in disgust as blood fountained from the neck of his victim coating the floor and turning the leg of Sam's jeans a deep crimson, as the severed head spun like a top on the floor.

He looked at Sam, and hastily acknowledged the young hunter's gasp of thanks as he stretched out his hand pulling him from the floor.

"Is that all of them that headed for the house, Sam?"

Bobby was still on alert his body tense, right hand gripping the dripping blade. Sam's shaky eyes cast about doing a swift and literal 'head' count. He gasped out breathlessly.

"T...Think so, B...Bobby."

Bobby nodded, relaxing just slightly and that was his downfall.

The vampire leader came through the open doorway of the house like a tornado, barrelling the two men off their feet with his inhuman strength. He grasped Bobby by the jaw and smashed his head heavily against the wooden floor, knocking him unconscious as he held Sam pinned and helpless with his other powerful hand. Sam fought the suffocating pressure of the unnaturally strong embrace and knew he didn't have the power left to defeat this creature. He closed his eyes briefly; seeking forgiveness for what he was to do, and then he opened his mouth and yelled with all his remaining strength.

"Dean. Help me!"

SNSNSN

The third of the vampires that had surrounded Dean was a fierce fighter and he found himself tiring from the protracted and savage exchange of blows that had left them both bloodied and torn. Dean had landed numerous blows on the blond haired creature with his rapidly dulling blade but could not find the clear neck shot he needed to finish the task and dispatch the unholy beast. Reciprocally though, it had raked numerous savage furrows with its long claws into his flesh and Dean could feel his own warm blood running from the deep lacerations, the smell driving the vampire to even greater frenzy.

They circled warily, each looking for the upper hand and Dean constantly trying to edge the creature towards the house so he could get to Sam and know he was safe. He chanced a glance at the door realising that it had gone suddenly quiet in the house and the vampire used his slight lapse in concentration to lash out and drag its claws across Dean's cheek and down his neck, spilling a fresh crimson trail down his throat. The hunter flinched back; the searing pain making him hiss and draw in his breath, as his free hand went to the wound. The vampire smiled then; its fangs showing white in the bright moonlight, its nose twitching at the coppery smell of Dean's blood.

"For killing my brothers, Hunter, I will finish you and feast on your sweet blood."

Its voice was a soft whisper and at first Dean wasn't sure that he had really heard words from the lips of the creature before him. He found himself suddenly reeling. In his mind 'they' were savage and otherworldly so killing them was easy but as the realisation came to him that they were sentient, albeit murderous, being, he found his resolve swaying.

He looked at his hands, stained crimson in the fray, and he felt bile rising in his throat as he looked on the vampire in horror. Was this truly his life? Killing things that would murder him and Sam and Bobby? He looked at the blood and gore surrounding him and felt his stomach churning. What the hell was he doing? He backed away; stumbling over the uneven surface in the darkness; his pale eyes wide with disgust and sudden over whelming fear at what he had done.

The creature saw the hunter's face and manner change; saw the killing instinct waver and the eyes dilate in terror and he howled triumphantly, closing in for the kill.

"Dean. Help me!"

Sam's cry reached Dean through the escalating layers of panic that were flooding his retreating body and he stopped. That voice crying for his help instantly dismissed all other emotions and he was left breathless by the speed at which the hunter within him surged back to the fore. His fear was forgotten and his only instinct became that of the rescuer of Sam and Bobby. He masked the re-emergence of his hunter instinct from the vampire; letting it think he was paralysed with fear, drawing it forward in his eagerness to finish it and fly to Sam.

SNSNSN

The leader of the vampires dragged Sam out of the house and onto the porch, its vicious clawed hand on his throat, crushing his larynx. It flung him down the wooden steps onto the dirt in front of the house, as it howled with rage at the decimation of its nest. It shrieked into the darkness, calling for any of its brethren who remained to come to him, but was rewarded with only one response.

The blond vampire bore down on Dean, watching him cower in fear. It licked its fangs imagining the sensual wash of warm, iron rich blood that it anticipated tasting soon.

Dean kept his head raised just enough to watch the creature's every move whilst shielding his eyes from its gaze, not wanting to give away that he was again prepared and would kill without hesitation in his need to get to his brother. He kept his stance submissive whilst at the same time renewing his resolute hold on the machete in his blood drenched hand.

The howl of calling from its master filled the vampire with delight and it turned its upper body to look back at the porch of the house, a growl of anticipated triumph bursting from its throat in answer as it met the dark eyes of its lord.

In that moment; finally seeing his opportunity for a dispatching blow, Dean rose from his position of servitude as the beast carelessly turned from him. He raised his hand, way above shoulder height, and drove the machete mercilessly into the vampires exposed neck.

Sam watched as his brother cleaved the creature's head from its body with one powerful blow; the twice dead corpse sliding to the ground as if in slow motion, as the leader of the nest screamed in anguish and rage. It leapt from the porch in the same breath that Dean took flight towards them, his translucent eyes wide with fear and his lips parted as he shouted in desperation.

"Sam! Get down. Move!"

Dean could see that he was not going to reach Sam before the vampire did. He was moving flat out like a sprinting panther but he had further to cover and the creature was at least as fast as he if not considerably faster.

He needed a plan or it would reach Sam before he could. It was an insane idea, but all he could come up with, and as panic flooded his body he raised his arms, took a two handed hold on the machete, and flung the huge blade, like it was a well balanced throwing knife, towards the advancing beast.

Sam watched from his groggy sprawl as Dean hurtled over the scrubby lawn racing full tilt for the advancing vampire. His brother looked every inch the hunter he had always been and Sam had to blink to remember that 'proper' Dean had been absent for some days now. He fumbled to rise, keen to help his brother, but found himself diving for the floor again as Dean roared his name and flung the blade with all his strength.

The machete struck its target embedding itself into the thigh of the vampire pitching it to the ground just short of Sam and Dean followed just seconds after, vaulting his brother's prone form to slam into the vampire with his shoulder, the pair of them falling to the floor locked in a deadly embrace.

The vampire dug its claws into Dean's back shredding his shirt and tearing ragged grooves in his bronzed skin, as he braced his arms against its chest and jaw in a desperate attempt to keep its snarling fangs from his throat. But even with all his weight on his forearm the creature was still able to slowly rise from the floor.

"Sam!"

Dean gasped as the vampire moved its claws to his pressing forearm tearing deeply into the flesh as it attempted to lose Dean's restraint.

Sam crawled to his knees and moved closer to his struggling brother. He was still groggy from the fall down the steps.

"Sam, get the machete!"

Dean indicated the blade in the vampire's oozing leg wound as he struggled to keep the creature pinned to the floor.

Sam nodded blearily and moved to grasp the blade pulling it loose from the vampire's leg as it shrieked in rage and pain and thrust out its strong arm; finally dislodging Dean and rolling free. It rose to its full height reaching for the brothers as Dean rolled over Sam protecting him with his body from the claws of the beast.

Bobby leaned against the porch and sighted his last silver tipper quarrel at the snarling vampire. He knew it wouldn't stop the creature but he hoped it might offer Dean vital seconds. He let fly and it flew true, striking the vampire in the side causing it to straighten in pain.

Dean heard the twang of the crossbows string as the quarrel thunked into the creature, and it grunted in pain. He moved his hand over Sam's urgently.

"Sam, the blade!"

Sam thrust the sticky handle of the machete into his brother's waiting hand. Dean rolled from on top of him to land on his back in the dirt, as the vampire swooped towards the brothers with its claws extended. Dean swiped with the blade severing the fingers from its hand. It howled and Dean leapt to his feet, his body singing with power, to slam the blade into the vampire's throat.

The vampire knew it was dying as it felt the blade bite heavily into its neck but it rallied its final strength and struck Dean heavily across the temple flinging him across the scrubby earth to land in a heap metres away.

Sam shouted in rage as he watched Dean crumple to the floor and he raised his hand as Bobby approached at a pace and caught the matched blade that the old hunter carefully tossed, and dashed the head of the final beast to the ground.

SNSNSN

Dean felt gentle hands turn him over and he spat out a mouth full of blood from his torn lip. He could feel someone behind him holding him steady and knew it wasn't Sam because he was there in his line of somewhat fuzzy sight. He blinked at the warm but stinging sensation in his left eye. He let his head roll back to get a view of whoever was behind him but the world tilted and pitched so he stopped.

"You OK, boy?"

A gruff voice to match the rough embrace. _Ah it_ _was Bobby holding him in his arms. Well that was alright then. He knew that he knew Bobby so that was OK!_

"M'Fine, Bobby"

Dean's voice was a little slurred and his head hurt again, like it had when he woke up days ago in the hospital. He lifted his hand towards his forehead, only to have Sam catch his arm.

"Don't touch, Dean. I think you've bust the wound open but I can't see for all the blood."

Sam took the handkerchief that Bobby was proffering and pressed it carefully to the burst sutures in the hunter's forehead, swabbing away the blood and dirt from the floor. Dean groaned and wriggled beneath Sam's urgent hand.

"Ow, Sam, it hurts!"

"Well it will, you've bust nearly all the stitches."

Sam pressed the cloth harder and Dean grasped his wrist trying to lessen the pressure on his tender skin. Sam stared into the pink tinged pale jade eyes.

"Anyway I thought you were gonna stay in the car?"

Sam's voice was all mock annoyance, infinitely grateful that his 'almost proper' brother had come to his and Bobby's rescue. Dean watched his brother frown at him and started to babble.

"Yeah... see, Sam, I saw those creatures and...Well I couldn't just sit in the car. I'm sorry, I know I said I would but I could see that there were too many of them and..."

He trailed off, shifting his hand from Sam's wrist towards his throbbing head, only to be swatted away again. Dean frowned then and dropped his hand to his lap.

"Anyway..."

Sam smiled as he watched the beginnings of a pout form on his big brother's face.

"I didn't like it in the car on my own."

Sam laughed then, glancing at Bobby and thinking about his earlier conversation about always being the one left in the car.

"No, Dean. Me neither. Being left in the car always sucked."

Dean smiled, carefully nodding his head under Sam's hand as he applied pressure to the head wound. He closed his eyes but then opened them again quickly as images of vampires ghosted across the back of his eyelids.

Sam felt Dean's hand return to his wrist and he looked from the makeshift dressing to his brother's wide green eyes.

"We did get them all, didn't we, Sam?"

Sam could hear just an edge of panic in his brother's voice and he marvelled that there was not more. How could someone do what he had just done, ostensibly for the first time, and only be slightly panicky?

"Yeah, Dean. We got 'em all."

He peaked under the makeshift dressing and was relieved to see the blood flow had slowed considerably.

"We need to get you inside Dean. This is gonna need re suturing. You hurt anywhere else? Can you walk?"

Sam looked at his brother and saw exhaustion and pain and perhaps confusion about the questions on his pale face. He looked like he had when he had just come round following his head injury and Sam was worried how this new blow had affected him.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

Dean's eyes were half closed, his long lashes fluttering over pools of limpid green.

"I said do ya hurt bad anywhere?"

Dean considered for a second or two, frowning a little as his lips pouted that bit more.

"No, Sam..."

Dean frowned then; further considering Sam's question, his brow creasing and threatening to restart the flow of blood.

"Well... yeah actually, my arm hurts, and my back feels sore and wet."

He stopped then, his eyes fluttering closed as Bobby leaned him forward a little. Dean groaned as the old hunter's strong hands parted the tears in his shirt to reveal a tracery of deep furrows in his skin. Bobby looked up at Sam, grimacing.

"Jeeze his back's torn to ribbons. I think we have a few hours needlepoint before we sleep tonight, boys."

"Same here. Some of 'em real deep too."

Sam said as he completed his gentle examination of Dean's arm and gently pressed the clawed-up forearm to his brother's chest.

"Come on, Dean. Let's get ya inside."

They pulled Dean to his feet and he wobbled but stayed upright. His eyes fell on the decapitated corpse at his feet and then wandered to the various others strewn about Bobby's property. He swallowed, feeling suddenly very sick.

"Sam?"

His voice was a whisper and Sam was forced to bend towards him to hear.

"What about the...bodies?"

Sam watched as his bother swallowed heavily, snatching in what he hoped was a stomach settling breath through his nose.

Bobby stepped closer to the younger man, watching as the minor wobble was becoming a sway.

"I'll call a couple of boys I know who'll deal with them for us, Dean. Don't you worry about that. Let's just get ya patched up."

Dean nodded accepting Bobby's words, his sleepy eyes hunting for focus on his friend's face.

"Sorry, Bobby."

Dean's voice was contrite and the older man reached out and took his shoulder to steady him.

"What're ya sorry for, boy?"

Bobby's voice was soft and kind.

"I told you I'd do as you said and I didn't. I meant to stay in the car but...I saw those things...creatures..."

He tipped his head at the nearest vamp, and the sway increased. Sam caught hold of his brother round the waist, trying to avoid touching his bleeding back.

"I couldn't just sit there, Bobby. Not while you and Sam were in danger. It's ...it's my..."

He struggled for the right words in his throbbing head. Bobby could see exhaustion, both physical and mental, in the increasing listing of his strong body. He filled in the words for Dean.

"It's your job, Dean?"

"Yeah. That's what I meant to say."

Dean smiled tiredly.

"How did ya know that, Bobby?"

Bobby laughed then, raising his hand to lift the boy's drooping chin.

"I've known that for a long time, Dean. It's OK that you didn't stay in the car like I told you to. I'm proud of ya, son. You saved our lives."

Dean smiled a soft lopsided sappy sort of a smile as his closing eyes flickered from Sam to Bobby and back.

"Can I go to bed then? 'Cause, Sam, I'm real tired."

Sam choked out a soft breath then and glanced at Bobby; thinking perhaps he saw the same glisten of moisture in the old man's eyes as was in his own, and they took hold of their charge and began to slowly weave towards the house.

They reached the porch steps and Sam nudged Dean gently to wakefulness.

"Dean! Lift your foot, steps man."

Dean looked at Sam; failure to understand written all over his face.

"Where's the car, Sam? Is my baby OK? Are we not going back to the motel, Sam? I'm real tired. I just wanna go to bed now."

He made it slowly up the steps, Sam and Bobby working from either side to gently push and pull him along.

"We don't need to go back to the motel, Dean. We're at Bobby's, remember? And the Impala's fine."

Dean swivelled his head between his two supporters, his mind just too exhausted to know what he remembered at that point, but not wanting to upset his brother.

"OK, Sam. Whatever you say."

He smiled then and patted his brother on the arm as they all but carried him towards the door.

"Is Bobby's a nice motel, Sam?"

The words were slurred and Dean yawned widely as he looked at his brother. Bobby huffed out a laugh as he glanced at Sam over Dean's drooping shoulders.

"Yeah, Dean."

Sam responded.

"It's a real nice motel."

Dean smiled uncoordinatedly at Bobby before turning back to Sam. He found his brother's loving gaze as he spoke.

"That's cool, Sam. So does it have a pool then?"

Chapter ends

Come on you gotta review me this time! I gave you vampires and everything!


	8. Chapter 8

**What's My Name Again, Sam? by DeansBabyBird**

OK so here's the final chapter which hopefully ties it all up for ya. Apologies for the delay but I've been in France for a week on holiday. Thanks as always to Lou and Kirsty for the fabulous beta and the much more you do for me, and to you guys for reviewing. Oh and a few swear words...well its been a bit of a shock for poor Dean but he's put a dollar in the swear box!

Chapter 8. Did ya get a bop on the head or something?

Dean awoke to the noise of virtual small arms fire reverberating around in his throbbing head. No, strike that! Regular ordinance wouldn't make a hunter's whole head resonate like a Taiko ensemble with possessed bachi had taken up residence! This was more like a faithful re-enactment of the battle of Trafalgar where the organisers had kindly provided the full complement of 24 pounders and the cannon were scoring broadside after broadside on the reverse of Dean's tightly closed eyelids. He groaned softly into his pillow; willing the booming to relent to a steady bass rhythm before slowly, with the caution of a man who recognised the nausea inducing effects of such a headache, flopping over onto his back.

And that was only his first big mistake of the day!

The old mattress with its lumps and bumps rubbed unmercifully at the newly sutured rips and tears in the tender skin of Dean's back, and he used his elbows to push himself quickly onto one hip, yelping in pain as he tried to hold his protesting flesh from the rough cotton.

Crap!

And that right there was his second big mistake as the movement caused his similarly sutured forearm to assault his brain with a further helping of pain messages. He dropped back onto his side on the mattress, nestling his arm into his chest and squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden and horribly urgent impulse to hurl the entire length of the room.

Sam heard his brother's muted cries and was on his feet at the same time as Bobby, fighting the older man in a Laurel and Hardy rush through the door frame in their haste for Dean's bedside.

"Dean!"

The covers were whipped back from his shaky frame and a large hand, unmistakably that of his brother, landed none too delicately on his protesting back. Dean wriggled in protest, as the strong probing fingers checked the numerous dressings that were itching at the sticky wounds that decorated the new scars on his back.

"Jeeze, Sam! Ouch, watch it will ya. That hurts!"

Dean snarked as he worked on fully opening the curling lashes that gummed his still sleepy eyes together.

"Sorry."

Sam mumbled; but Dean noted he continued with the merciless pulling and pinching at his undoubtedly mangled back, and he elbowed back with his less sore arm trying to dislodge his solicitous sibling.

"Stop it, Sammy!"

Dean growled, as his red rimmed gaze finally found focus on the worried looking hazel eyes peeping from beneath ridiculously long brown bangs. Sam held his hands up in surrender, reasonably happy that the wounds were OK and delighted to hear alertness, along with a healthy dollop of annoyance, again in Dean's voice.

"I was only trying to..."

Sam stopped then and quickly replayed Dean's response in his head. He looked at Bobby, a quizzical look on his face that the older hunter could not interpret. He turned back to the bed, the slightest hint of a smile beginning to play at the corners of his mouth.

"What did you just call me, Dean?"

Dean was attempting to sit up but without much success as each movement found some new twinge of pain and which was not helping his already grouchy mood.

"What?"

Disbelieving deep green eyes flashed at Sam, the irritation in the expressive jade pools ramping up a notch as Dean saw the beginnings of his brother's smile. He looked at Bobby, his glance saying 'what is the idjit going on about?' and Bobby stepped forward smiling sympathetically as he moved to help Dean sit up. Between them, but not without considerable swearing, Dean was finally positioned in reasonable comfort against the pillows. Sam sat down next to him and Bobby straddled a straight back chair next to the bed, both hunters intent on the slightly breathless man's face. The unanticipated scrutiny was irksome, and more than a little unnerving, and Dean squirmed under the hunters' spotlight.

"So, Dean, humour me. What was it you called me just then?"

Dean scowled at his now openly smiling brother, and shook his head at Bobby, who seemed to have been infected with the same giddy, unfathomable obsession with the irrelevant.

"What the hell does it matter what I called ya? Just what is going on here, Sammy...? You're talking crazy, Bobby's grinning like a loon and the last thing I remember was ..."

Sam's laughter interrupted Dean and he stopped in mid sentence a look of confusion on his slightly hurt face as Sam and then Bobby chuckled at something that was obviously hugely amusing. The bemused hunter frowned helplessly. Clearly something was tremendously funny, so it was a real pity that Dean was not party to it, 'cause if the state he found himself in was anything to go by, he'd not been having his fair share of laughs of late.

After a long moment Sam finally pulled himself together and, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, he spoke.

"You called me _Sammy_. You haven't called me that in the last few days that's all. So I'm guessing that's finally, really you in there huh, Dean?"

Dean huffed out his breath in disgust, his emerald eyes flaring with shimmering sunspots of fury, as his patience was eroded by unbridled idiocy and his enthusiastically over-active pain receptors.

"Well who the hell else would it be, Sam? Oh lemme see here? Take your pick, the Easter Bunny, John Bon Jovi or how about Paris freaking Hilton huh?"

Sam burst into laughter again then, remembering the conversation with the odious Earl at the hotel, as Dean watched him with a look of consternation on his pale face.

"What has gotten into you, dude?"

Dean reached forward, feeling his sutures pull interestingly as he placed his hand on his brother's convulsing shoulder, taking in Bobby's similar giggles out of the corner of his eye.

"You're not making any sense at all, Sammy. Lemme look at ya. Are ya OK? Did you get a bop on the head or something?"

SNSNSN

Dean's head hurt and he was not the least bit surprised as he studied his huge but neatly re-sutured head wound in the bathroom mirror. It still ran from his spiked, sandy hair, right across his forehead, to terminate just above his left eye.

It was now held together by a reinstated line of a similar dozen or so little sutures; this time however they were black, and though Sam's needlepoint was practised Dean knew they would still be painful to remove.

Dean sighed, another scar for his extensive and ever increasing collection. _Ah well, what was it he usually said to Sam on these occasions? Oh yeah. Chicks dig scars! _He reached for his clean T-shirt and gingerly pulled it over his head, sucking air through his teeth as the dressings on his back pulled at wounds too fresh to have yet stopped throbbing. Finally dressed, he succumbed to a strong urge to give himself one last glance in the mirror, feeling creepily like he was seeing himself for the first time in a while. It was a strange, slightly disquieting feeling and a small shudder rippled through him as he turned out the bathroom light and walked back into the main room.

He was greeted by Sam and Bobby both trying to be nonchalant and failing miserably. Dean looked at their vaguely concerned but predominantly amused faces and rolled his emerald eyes. He tried to ignore their stares and walked to the bed; sitting down with care; mindful of his torn back, as he reached for his socks.

"So, Dean..."

He looked up from his half clad foot, into Sam's laughing gaze, caution on his wary face as he raised his eyes in question.

"What, Sam?"

"Do you remember anything of the last few days?"

Dean frowned as he concentrated; the involuntary spasm of brow muscles tensing the row of tight sutures there; making them itch and he brushed his hand absently at them. But the snark of the sutures was nothing compared to the disquiet caused by the 'payback's a bitch' look that Sam was fighting to keep from his unconvincing effort at a neutral face. Dean played for time by studying the slow slide of his less than white sock onto his foot and glancing sideways at Bobby. He found no reassurance there either; the amusement that made Dean feel like he was somehow due for an unmerciful ribbing, mirrored on the grizzled face of the older hunter.

"It's a bit sketchy and confused. I remember being on the hunt with you and that son of a bitch tossing me the length of the room, Sam. And I'm assuming that's how I got this?"

Dean waved a sock covered hand in the general direction of his head, making slightly nervous eye contact with his smugly content brother.

"Uh huh!"

Sam nodded.

"What else?"

Dean shoved his toes into his second sock, scanning the room for his boots.

"And I remember last night and this time it was a freaking vampire tossing me through the air and busting my head open again!"

"And in between that?"

Sam handed him his boots and Dean shoved his foot into the scruffy leather.

"Well like I said, it's kinda fuzzy..."

Dean paused, a look of total disbelief on his puzzled face.

"Sam! Just what the hell are you doing?"

Sam started and followed Dean's wide green eyes down his long leg to his foot and the boot that Sam was carefully tying the laces of. Sam smiled sheepishly and dropped his hands as Dean pulled his foot further back towards himself, possessively reclaiming the laces and the task of dressing himself.

"Well, you kinda needed a bit of help with that over the last few days..."

"Yeah, Sam. Sure!"

Dean snorted and looked towards Bobby, a look that said 'shithead' on his handsome face. The old hunter nodded slowly confirming Sam's statement, his blue grey eyes effectively dissipating the confidence in Dean's retort. Vivid green eyes that were suddenly slightly wider switched back to amused hazel, fingers paused in mid bow and loop.

"You kidding me, Sam?"

"Nope!"

Sam shook his head slowly, his long hair sweeping at the nape of his neck, tickling distractingly.

"Actually Dean, you couldn't even remember you needed to put your boots on to go out in the snow."

Dean snorted again but this time with less assuredness; as his eyes snook another shifty sideways glance at Bobby, the older man's affirming nod disquieting him a little further. Sam's soft voice drew him back.

"In fact..."

Sam's smile drew out the now well established squirm factor making Dean's gut begin to churn.

"Even when it dawned on ya that boots and 10 degree below temperatures kinda went together, you still couldn't quite fathom which boot went on which foot!"

Sam watched a slight wince of embarrassment and partial remembrance cross Dean's face and he smiled wickedly.

Dean hurriedly finished tying his lace, eager to change the subject. Only to have the knot fail and Sam laughingly reach for the laces. Dean shifted his foot quickly off the bed and rose to stand, his slightly jittery stance betraying his nervousness, which Bobby and Sam's look of amusement did nothing to help. He clumsily went for a change of subject ploy.

"So, anyone else starving?"

Dean reached for his leather jacket as he spoke, his growing disquiet at the vague returning memories masked in the distraction of activity.

Sam and Bobby nodded in agreement and Dean, grasping his car keys in his hand, led them from the kitchen out to the yard.

The Impala sat just outside the front door, Bobby having moved her there as he had supervised the Acme Cleaners: Vampire Division the previous night. Sam watched as Dean's face lit up at the sight of his muscle baby.

"Ahhhh!"

Dean moved swiftly to the car's side; his hands trailing lovingly over the glossy paintwork, inspecting her for damage as he crooned soft words of greeting to her.

He made his way to the driver's side and opened the door, preparing to slide into the familiar worn black leather, as Sam and Bobby hopped into the passenger side, Bobby opting for the more spacious rear seat.

"Sam. You know when I was a bit ...erm...lost there for a while?"

Sam nodded seriously in response to the very real look of concern on his brother's usually mellow face.

"I did remember my baby, didn't I?"

Dean kept his voice low so his baby would not overhear, as he asked the question that to him was tantamount to heresy.

"Well...kinda, Dean..."

Sam watched as his brother's face blanched a look of horror and incredulity on his pale face.

"Owh, Sam, no! You have gotta be kidding me? There's no way I would have forgotten my girl."

Dean swept a possessive hand over the roof of the Chevy as his dilated eyes locked onto Sam's and the younger hunter was struck with remorse for his delight in reminding Dean of his unforgivable lapse.

"Well, you had just had you're head dented, Dean and ..."

"Are you two boys gonna spend all night playing pet the Impala or are we gonna go eat?"

Bobby's amused voice gravelled from the interior of the car and Sam ducked his head to the side, nodding the shell shocked Dean into the car as the elder Winchester groaned wondering what other 'lost' moments his brother had to reveal to him.

SNSNSN

Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel of his beloved Impala like it was the only thing real and tangible in a world gone mad. His face was pink with a mixture of disbelief, annoyance and embarrassment and he stared resolutely at the road before them, anything rather than make eye contact with the smirk twins that he currently found himself riding towards Hell with.

Sam hugged his arms around his broad chest and laughed gleefully at Bobby from his position of partial turn towards his fuming brother.

"No, Dean, I am not "shitting" you...its totally true, and if ya don't believe me then ask Bobby."

The old hunter looked towards the rear view mirror, catching cringing emerald that begged him for release from this teasing torment. The old hunter smiled devilishly. Damn if this wasn't too good to miss!

"True as my ass is sitting on this fine leather, Dean. You have been hugging everyone you came across with the enthusiasm of a fan-fiction girl meeting her idol."

The green eyes fled contact and Sam laughed louder as a small groan escaped his brother's pouting lips.

"OK then, I accept I might have been more...enthusiastic than usual in the chick-flick greetings but I do not...will not... believe this crud about me picking...ugg!..health food over a righteous, grease filled burger. I don't care how scrambled my brains were, there's no freaking way I would eat..."

Dean paused, a shudder rippling down his body as he glanced at the still snorting Sam.

"eat...vegetables when there was warming, nourishing cholesterol on the menu."

The 'don't mess with me any more' look in Dean's eye would have halted Sam's laughter at that point were it not for the fact that Bobby's chuckle of "So does it have a pool then?" chose that moment to pop from his giggling body sprawled in the back seat.

Dean shook his head in disbelief as his companions chuckled themselves into apoplexy at his expense and reached for the on switch of the radio in an attempt to drown out their cringe inducing merriment.

The radio spluttered to life, some Hicksville country station in place of his usual metal and he leaned in to re-tune out the twang of steel guitars, only to have his hand still on the dial as the next song lilted from the speakers. The tune resonated in his head, the words suddenly finding instant meaning for him, his thoughts ricocheting back a few days to another journey in the Impala and he knew without doubt that he...Dean Winchester...had sung country out loud, in Sam's presence.

_Easy Silence_

_When the calls and conversations_

_Accidents and accusations_

_Messages and misperceptions_

_Paralyze my mind_

_Busses, cars, and airplanes leaving_

_Burning fumes of gasoline_

_And everyone is running_

_And I come to find a refuge in the_

_Easy silence that you make for me_

_It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me_

_And the peaceful quiet you create for me_

_And the way you keep the world at bay for me_

_The way you keep the world at bay_

Sam watched Dean's face as his eyes widened in mortal embarrassment until Sam was sure they would simply fall from their sockets. He was suddenly and emotionally reminded that if there had been pleasure for him over these last few, difficult days' it had been in seeing the usual burden of responsibility Dean bore lifted so that he could, for once, enjoy the simple pleasures of life. This expression of squirming horror that Dean bore now made him look much younger than he had in recent months and Sam found his hysteria abating to be replaced by a relief that 'proper' Dean was back. But he was also reminded that he would miss sweet, sappy Dean who had just departed.

"I...I..."

Dean stuttered, his eyes on Sam's as the radio geared up for the second verse.

"Yup."

Sam smiled at his brother, a warm smile full of gratitude and affection.

"You sure did sing it, Dean."

_Monkeys on the barricades_

_Are warning us to back away _

_They form commissions trying to find_

_The next one they can crucify_

_And anger plays on every station_

_Answers only make more questions_

_I need something to believe in_

_Breathe in sanctuary in the_

_Easy silence that you make for me_

_It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me_

_And the peaceful quiet you create for me_

_And the way you keep the world at bay for me_

_The way you keep the world at bay_

Dean closed his eyes briefly before returning them to the road as the soft lilting melody of the undoubtedly country tune wafted through the muscle car's interior. He started to hum softly along, knowing that there was no point trying to deny his transgression against 'cool' and that Sam was going to use this forever to humiliate him at every opportunity.

What the hell! He was fucked but he was here in his beloved baby, with his brother and Bobby and his screwed up brains almost as good as new. What more could a Winchester ever really ask for?

Dean began to sing, the humming turning to a wistfully beautiful harmony and Sam watched with pleasure as his brother sung his heart out to the heretical words that were the anthem for their weird life.

_Children lose their youth too soon_

_Watching war made us immune_

_And I've got all the world to lose_

_But I just want to hold on to the_

_Easy silence that you make for me_

_It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me_

_And the peaceful quiet you create for me_

_And the way you keep the world at bay for me_

_The way you keep the world at bay_

_Easy silence that you make for me_

_It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me_

_And the peaceful quiet you create for me_

_And the way you keep the world at bay for_

_The way you keep the world_

Story Ends.

Hope to maybe hear from some of you wonderful reviewers as I bring my other stories across from Ungen and thanks to each of you for reviewing, reviews are like rich dark chocolate! Thanks.


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